there is a rush of such proddings pull
there is distance up ahead
bankrupting what is left of my nerves
I listen
as sweetest is my muse
when addressed
in such a sudden waking
God's very own kiss
buses my soul
puts words in a place
where only truth's words
can flourish
waste
is the spirit's bath water
thrown out
carelessly
while still plenty warm..........
(Dec. 10, 1999)