Sunday, March 18, 2012

Saturday Morning Biscuits

The day begins with biscuits,
sausage and egg,
bacon egg and cheese,
it has become Saturday
morning ritual,
part of the routine.

Looking up,
the mountains call,
standing like ancient sentinels,
whispering like lovers
in the fading, forgotten mist,
beckoning you to travel
along their hidden trails,
a secret society,
a forbidden mystery,
but the growing pain
within your gut
says not today;
perhaps never again.

Below the James
gurgles and flows,
steady and rhythmic,
the frogs creak,
the daffodils bloom,
another spring awaits.

You think about
the people and places
you have known,
you wonder within;
does a lifetime of
mediocrity and underachievement,
lessen moments of greatness?
does not light shine
through the darkness no matter
where or when it shines?
do careless words speak forever?
.
.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Your feedback is greatly appreciated

Followers

Blog Archive