A poem a day,
for the past year
flowing from the keys I press,
the pen, the paper, the gift of God
for some salve for my soul
a balm to share
words of hope, of love, of beauty
of justice and law, of whim and whimsy
day by day they come, in bursts and in drips
singly or in bunches, they come
raining down, falling like showers,
of waves on the rocks of life
building up, washing away
depending on the words that come
A gift revealed over and over again
beyond my understanding;
but welcome nonetheless
each time the muse speaks
that God speaks, through me.
September 24, 2006 16:39
This poem marks 365 poems in the last 365 days – 9/24/05 to 9/24/06
(Raymond A. Foss)
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