I find this sweetly prayerful - a genuine humility about it, that I think is
hard to arrive without sounding forced.
Thanks,
Stephen
> In my dreams I swim
> in crowded pools. I am made
> of some clay-like substance,
>
> infinitely malleable and invisible;
> transparent as this light, falling
> on the paving stones. A scarred
>
> and scrawny squirrel scolds me
> from the lilac tree. Why? What
> have I done, or left undone,
>
> that has offended you?
> The feeder is full, water pours
> from the fountain. Solomons
>
> Seal curves gently in the shade.
> My life is an empty gourd.
> What more must I do?
>
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