The women are lovely, the wine is superb but there’s something about the song that disturbs you…~Dan Fogelberg
On the point great blue heron throaty-croaks.
Wondrous beings rise beneath glass, upstrokes
create perfect circles, rippling. Clear
courage hurtles me through crippling fear.
Tardy, I do not fit. You do not get
me, tangled shoelaces ditched, bare feet wet
in morning praise. You scorn my history–
her story never told, a mystery
not worth a cent–say I wouldn’t give you
if you begged. Apprised, I enter lake blue
reflections disguised, differences make
I am a stone thrown, all that you forsake
becoming new unchained by patterns old
which surface to me watching brave and bold.
The gifts I offer rare and strange. Behold
I dance freely. You sink locked in your gold.