Well, well, well! Good late sloppy evening to everyone! Ugh! that white stuff has found its way to our fair city, way too early if you ask me, A quick tip of the kippah and yep, it's Friday! Hip-hip hooray! We've made it! And believe you me, I am quite happy it's here! But still I remain just as busy as ever for the end of this second week of November and after a long absence, it's nice to be back here on Friday nights. But you know what? Our good friend, that sweet capper is here to ease us into a gentle weekend! Stay warm (those of you in the Midwest & the East)! And now, yes you guessed it! It's spanking brand-new poem-time! And remember dear readers, please tell someone you love them and always, always enjoy!!! Helping Myself With The Harvest
The sun makes up poems for me
When I cannot
And lately that’s been a lot
Leaves make poems for me
When I fall silent
And all I can hear is the wind whistle through the trees
The gentle breeze frees my spirit,
but every time I try to record my movements, with a pen and a pad
All I can think about is wanting to be had
Do you think that’s mad?
That’s why I rely on the sun, the trees and the falling leaves to make up poems for me.
because if they couldn’t,
I wouldn’t exist and simply would not get close to the soul who once resembled the man
I set out to be
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