A poem accepts

a heart that’s empty,

a heart that’s full,

that which pushes,

that which pulls,

a lot of words,

or just a few.

A poem opens itself to you.

                                                  JDG

Soon we’ll be dancing

with the angels, Cummings said.

What present will we

 leave behind?

                                                           JDG

( In memory of Elijah Cummings,

a statesman who walked the talk )

 A minor inconvenience 

for some of us,

but parched flowers,

shrubs and trees,

( and even those

we call weeds )

drink deeply today

from Nature’s

rain-filled cup.

                                               JDG

Clinging to nothing,

she moved effortlessly

through time and circumstance

until she was snagged

by a thorny thought.

                                                          JDG

Feeling down, I look up

and see a single bird

in the early morning light.

I feel the ground beneath my feet,

hear the crunch of gravel as I walk.

The taste of coffee lingers in my mouth,

a scent of pine lingers in the air.

The senses soothe my fretting heart.

I open to the world and me.

                                                               JDG