
In the morning, if there's enough time
I'll leave all boundaries behind
Wash the plume of night from my eyes
And cross the fields of smoke and clover
There will be no need for prayer
For my road is unforgiving
I'll breathe until God's generosity is lost.
In the evening, if there's enough time
I'll count the stars in the vaulted heavens
Light a fire and dream of loved ones
Lay my tired boots near the glowing embers
And rest were sleep is forever lost
Dedication Krysta Skarbek a.k.a Christine Granville
© Fredrick Brooks 2014
AT THE POTTER’S WHEEL
My Father would sculpt bones
Spin soft Earth
Follow his circular wheel kneading its creation
A ballet of clay and flesh with its familiar
browns and greys
His trail of smoke rising ~~Marking the end of day.
It’s how I remember him ~~ A subtle longing
His samovar hissing ~~ His union smock removed
Tired bones folded ~~The sweet smell of brew
Watching him drift
Sparring with sleep
The invasion of night.
For my Father
©Fredrick Brooks
From XXVII Twenty Seven
PURCHASE XXVII TWENTY SEVEN HERE