I wrote this poem sitting in the reading room in the  Weston library, where a friend brought me after a brisk walk in the fresh February air. It is to go with an illustration by DH and Amie and will be a birthday present for a dear friend.
The inkling
Some things just must be said
Some things just say themselves
If only for a mouth
I just need to sit here and watch the fire
And know it
That it works and has worked for all time
That it is showing itself
And I would be an oracle for it
Is that what we are
The ones who can say it poetically
And once we have said it
Are we done here?
Is it fair to send a poem as a birthday present and then expect one back? Fresh air inspires me too, and walking and visioning and imagining with a friend.
Beauty unspoken is spoken most
Love spoken most is lost in the maze,
Why not-
ponder over the inkling
Follow you heart,
Breathe fresh air
feel the dew
on the grass,
Walk in ecstasy
to an enchanting journey,
we call life.
love blossoms……..
Andrea,
probably not, but that’s what I’m going with, because I’m going to need every poem I can get to make it to 350 before I croak!
Mesho,
it was wonderful to see your poem. Thank you! This one won’t have one of you illustrations, but the next one will.