specs of dust
I bought a new vacuum
It really sucks!
I gathered all the cobwebs and the dust.
I shook them out.
They flew away,
one last somewhat rainy day.
I set up a table,
a place to pray,
to cleanse all my cares and my worries away,
a whisper of hope
for a soul made new
and strength to reknow my love for you
With a digital quill,
an empty space
and a back arrow button with which to erase,
I wrestle word roots
and tendons of doubt
as If pulling the stones of my past clear out.
What is the danger
on this new road?
What radical poetic loss of control?
Words can’t tell the end,
nor the dawn of life’s riddle
but rather attempt to gather all that’s in the middle
They tell history, prophesy,
fiction and truth,
hypotheses, ideologies, direction, reproof
words to define, build up and tear down,
words that are lost and words that are found
and so I search
to end this first day
for words, like specs of dust, to shake away
2 Mourning Doves
2 mourning doves pecked side by side
In the whet crack in a parking lot
I observed them as I backed into my slot
Suddenly the radio seemed so raucous and brash
The engine so guttural
I turned back the key and listened
Birds singing in inches distant trees
Glancing now and again at the doves with their side by side love as the waddled and pecked at the ground
Knowing they are partners for life
Glancing back again they were gone