If I am Alone in the Woods Bitching Would Anyone Hear Me?
I've lost track of the things that may or may not be in my power,
debt service and net pay never really meet,
all of the work of the last few years rises and melts, rises again,
homes come and go,
rest and labor battle like a weary
Conan the Barbarian with gnashing of teeth
and the screams of sleep in flight from stress and aggravation,
just wish it was me with the Arnold S. growl,
the irises bloom and then bloom again,
I smile up into the sky, my eyes palm wide
prayer flags to the Georgia spring sun,
and then therešs an article here, a write up there,
another demonstration of this East West food,
a bit of me and the Bistro in stories of the biz and arty chefs,
later,
drown my thoughts in swirls of Camel smoke
and jasmine tea, the taste of raspberries and sweet potato cookies,
and I feel so tired so worn from the month,
and then I think of my she, my her, my darling,
my love is my love as big as the soul,
and that is the best of all those things that come and go,
the best of what I hope to never control,
for no matter I should speak of her with the me mine or my,
she is always she, independent and alive,
and with one smile evens out all the ridges I walk upon.
