Perception
Blog Posted:11/4/2012 8:36:00 AM
Still On A Wooden Bench
Silent, still,
on a wooden
bench – I lie
still, andsilent.
an old wooden
parasol to block the sun; to keep from scorching
me; a cool lawn for bare feet to savor; well worn
and weary from visiting; a flag or some flowers, a
splay of color,
or pink clover
should do; a
mature grown,
maple or elm,
to bloom, bud
and leaf each
spring; simple
needs, simply
met; my name
carved deeply
in granite; it is
simplicity itself.
I posted this poem some time ago, but rearranging the words makes a big difference in the perception. Now, the poem looks more like the grave marker. We sometimes do this with people, try to shape them into what we want them to be. Just a thought.