Dark furry hope... What other kind is there? Perhaps bright lemon flower hope, or how about the watery sweet seed spitting hope of a watermelon summer? I could contain the maple sugar hope of an early spring of rising sap. The heat of summer hope in the hum of seventy thousand cicadas between here and the corner where your house is. God, this never ends, this embodiment of hope. The crystal knife edge sharp hope of a clear and dry winter's day. The slogging squishy hope of waterproof boots in the middle of an Arkansas swamp. The tiny hope found in the leech's mouth when you have backed him away from your thigh by the judicious use of an approaching flame. God Blesses you all. There is more than enough hope to go around. An abundance of hope.
Reminders Of Your Shape
Yes, you shower me
with reminders of your shape
and color, and clear
from here I can get
the whiff of your clean perfume,
fresh from the river,
fresh from the garden,
and me all bear like, covered
with dark furry hope.
July 20, 2010 7:38 PM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.