April Drought

No April showers this year.
Ground forgets the meaning of rain.
No April showers, hope for
May flowers withers in sun.
But wait. I hear thunder.

Words

I grew up believing
words were magic.
I could paint any scene,
convey any idea,
share any feeling
ase any pain
if I could just
find the right words.
Now I know that isn't so.
Language ia impresise,
arbitrary, and abstract.
No matter how hard I try,
you may not understand me.
I can hurt you with my words
when my intentions are kind.
Now I know words are not magic.
Worda are metely tools, powerful
tools. I can practice using
them with increasing skill,
but if there is in any magic,
it is not in the words but
in the benefit of doubt you
give me when you listen.

Poet's Choice

Without inspiration,
ordinary poetry.
Without discipline,
no poetry.

In hope of hope

Stagnant afternoon
air, thoughts hang heavy
inspiration slows
doom looms invisible.
Best I can do is open
window. Perhaps hope
will blow in by dark.

Follow

Follow the leader
scares me.
Follow my heart
confuses me.
Follow my mind
chills me.
Stay in the moment
calms me.

Free Fall

Days fall by like wild red leaves,
faster than morning, faster than dying.
Days fall by like spring rain,
softer than secrets, softer than tears.
Days fall by like fading light
after days fall by, what secrets night?

Prayer at the end of Passover

I go through the motions
to lighten my load, my mood.
I say the prayers,
light the candles,
and still my feet hit heavy,
each right step an effort.
I wish for a dancing spirit,
easy happiness, free song.
I remember that the will
to continue the effort
is sufficient, dayenu, enough.