Tuesday, July 24, 2012

the overflowing.

Because the sun still rises
and rain still falls,
the sign in the sky
still appears and I can't read it.
My house and the land wherein we live
catch the glow,

catch the dew that falls
from morning.

I see the hand
but not the face. Nothing I've done
makes a difference
to what is poured out.
With a distant face and heart,
Wisdom calls out.

She offers me her hand.
She promises,
allures me to your closeness,
entices hope.