Little Poems

There's freedom in a poem. It's just a little leaf or a feather floating by on the breeze. No one could ever take it too seriously. It's far too small to really make a difference ... right? So a poet can relax and drift in tranquil waters and set his paper boat to sail upon a sea of clouds. Because it's just a moment. And surely there will be thousands more ... right? How can one be weightless unless they know there's always another chance? [... until there's not ...] 13 October 2024