... today is molasses, think slow, think Thursday this whole thing is over! and then what?!...
The day was inundated with triviality
it left me feeling futile, overwhelmed
the to-do-list a zealous kudzu vine
its roots strangling joy from my hours
I'm a discombobulated disaster
Like Punxatawney Phil yanked from his hole
just to fulfill irrelevant lore
but then there is his smile
an instant episiotomy on a too tight heart
a small infant joy given breath
He is my apothecary, slow moving
and gentle, he doles out his liquid kindness,
his subtle warmth, and I am healed.
The wicked day pales. I suddenly see
the verisimilitude of this moment.
The easy truth of tenderness.
The bitter flavour of my superfluous
aggravation sweetened by one
surreptitiously shy of being recognized
His plethora of goodness a private prize
a visible discomfiture arising with my praise
surreptitiously shy of being recognized
His plethora of goodness a private prize
a visible discomfiture arising with my praise
this medicine is my invisible saviour
He's not an abderian soul but serenity
flows from his veins, he knows how to sit
and be, and sit and be with me.
and be, and sit and be with me.
It's a euphoric content not to be intruded
on by dirty socks or practicality in general.
on by dirty socks or practicality in general.
It's a hippopotamus kind of love
fierce and apt but rarely elegant
it's a stick to it resolve. A sweet brown
molasses covered adoration that
never cleans away.
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