Oddly enough, nothing new comes to mind
Hours pass quietly as blackbirds chime
Not enough wisdom in this normal space
To conjure up value one must be removed
Within the universe of thinking
A rainstorm bleeds its grace
Still, by the river of life’s content
Sits our Huck Finn journey, son,
He, wandering to find the story
Of his life; us, the story of our own
Leading calmly through the fog
To an understanding of ourselves
A love of those we somehow take
For granted until at the brink
Of our loneliness, we inhale the truth.
And the Stellar Jay and the Oregon Junco
Warble on through morning’s mist
Then sunshine, gold and warm and pleasing
Wake the fawn and doe and bliss
Until at last the moment comes
For us to cry at heaven’s gate,
“I’ve done enough, don’t you
think, Lord?” Enough’s enough,
let the record state.
Unless, of course, I’m quite mistaken,
And tomorrow’s another beautiful
Day—in that case, I’ll just wander over
And put a quarter in the parking meter.
Word Play 