This passes as poetry in the Williams household: A Glimpse of Natures I weed-whacked a turtle I did not mean to I just hit a rock But then the rock moved And under my startled gaze grew a head Which turned and gave me A very old look Not of scorn or love or forgiveness Beyond that Just the acceptance Of itself and me And the primal forces which motivate And surround us The turtle then moved away And burrowed Under one of the few patches of grass I had let remain Then I week-whacked my foot I did not mean to I just hit a rock And the trimmer took an unfortunate bounce There was nothing old or beyond In my response The vocal nature of which Went well noted by the neighbors As I hobbled back to the house I passed the patch of grass In which my teacher was resting And being reminded of our encounter I felt a great lightening of my load And the dance was recaptured In my limp ...
Posted on: Tue, 18 Jun 2013 21:16:32 +0000
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