Simplicity, humility Are the thoughts that most appeal to me At the threshold of a window ledge Yet all my dreams are fevered My thoughts all cantilevered Still against the bitter end I hedge ...and I’m quite good with hedges Bill Hunt ©2019
The storm has raged and seethed and sung.
Death awaits at journey’s end
A silent half-thought sentence
Suspended in mid-air
Neither floating up nor down; just there
With care I would attend the words
wrought for that closing phrase
So many drafts, how densely filled that final august page
How tedious, how tiresome the bleak unmetered text
In vain anticipation of some good that must come next
Attend you now the space before that final deathly dot
It’s there for you to fill with love,
for that is all you’ve got.
As ever The things we do The things we make The things we say Will in time be rusted Worn and washed away Our dreams and cares will pass Our arms and hands And legs and feet Our brains and hearts No more or less than trees and leaves and grass Will die and fade [...]