Helen Frankenthaler's Mountains and Sea, 1952
When innocent boy
on Jan 1st threshold
whispering
‘Let me in…I’m 2015’ -
We wonder: what will he bring?
New voices?
marching in place
with comfy pillow.
New voyages?
dangerous depth
yet sharpened senses
eye and mind.
Long-range plan?
pot pie soup taste
commitment update.
Not thoughts but acts?
calm center of bubble,
start off right.
The willingness
to penetrate
to the core of fate?
New ways of
giving - novelty
every day?
Or ‘the terror of whole’
that was dug before -
“Divine is never split
into particles…” *
Read more at: Imagine gardens with real toads
Shared with PU Poetry Pantry
