..... poetry .....




You told yourself you were leaving for
    ten days,
Though you packed enough for
    ten years.
What were you thinking?

You look at bees and think
    they're Doing,
When for all we know they're really
    just Being.

You wish you could trade your
    fears and probable tears
For the uncertain certainty of

Trust, and be patient.
Surrender to waiting arms of
    Beauty and Grace.
Don't bother chasing the Beloved,
She's already made
    your favorite tea...

August 2004





©2010, Michael Smolens