At an age when charming youths go unnoticed
one still catches red poinsettia peeping over the wall
or a pigeon perching on a stranger’s roof,
as one trudges along the street to anywhere.
Life never had a destination:
It only is or is not.
All the rest, a call of youthful charm.
the poinsettia peeps over the wall…
I trudge along the street…
I plod…I slog…I lumber…
Still unaware, still in zombie-sleep the spirit
stretched out from shore to shore flowing wayward.
Let each charm delight the heart!
Let each ravishing charm claim portions of the heart!
For red beauty draws the human soul like cotton
and lights the lamp of worship in the heart.
He said, “Your hair is thin and white.
Have a boy’s cut. It will sit well on you.”
She said, “No, I’m fine. I like my hair
The way it is.” (The bond of matrimony
Stayed strong since they were united
A long, long time ago.) He thought,
“She is right!” She thought, “What if
I actually do as he says?” And thus
Love sits like white hair on all of us.
Both poems reprinted from Snow Jewel 2018, Volume 9