My moments have not ended.
I fear, yet carry my loads and arrive.
Greens, reds, and blues greet me,
familiar where they lie
in sunlit hues and shadowed tones.
Flavors line my pockets.
My fingers explore them
as I walk from here to there,
Whispers may approach without clarity,
but I notice, able to wonder,
able to ask.
I glide my hand over bits of paper,
and with sharpened pencil or favored pen
words appear in the order I set
with a mind agile still,
and ready for more to test it
in the arts I adore.
These gifts and more, I understand, value,
as I share their fruits,
Copyright 2011 Ré Harris. All rights reserved.