the groom of my words
is the receiver of this ink
each line
pulled so close
a blanket
to wrap these visiting thoughts in
a frame for hope
and a mantle for clearer understanding
physical sculpting
of the mental bust
an angled glimpse
at the unique light
through a mysterious doorway
one that only this hand
can adequately sketch
fruit for this scavenger
picked yet not fully eaten
hungry crossers of this path
stand tall
with glasses on
ready to sample
branches from this orchard
that one farmer
a farmer of words
has so lovingly tended..........
(written May 12, 2002 1220pm)