Simple

A poem about so little, and so much.

Author photo: Mid-Pacific, Kauai

At close of days I hope to be

Restored to quiet mundanity.

To be immersed in simple fare:

In raven’s waxen wing, in saline sting

Of ocean’s briny bed, in

Desert Rose’s arid charm, of

Spider’s spindly web.

I pray for taste of simple joy:

Alarm of infant’s wail, cry of hunger’s moan,

Suckled consolation simply there in

Mother’s soothing tone.

In grace well spent, in

Stranger’s gratis nod, a luxury

Defining fulsome life, the unseen,

Unrequested wealth of God.

I long for awe in nature’s call: Of

Thunder’s thrum, of rumbling rain, of

Lightning’s flash, of wooing owl’s refrain, in

Glisten-distant stars so far away that lovers

Craft whole futures there, each tender night

Each loving, languid day.

I pray for starkly simple things: Of

Gifted grants, meek might of grace, sacred

Day & hush-ed downy night. Slow

Artistry of ant, tap-tat of kneading lace.

Sweet business of bee, sly lurk of wasp, a

Monarch’s angling flight imperiled path to cross.

I hope for gentleness of touch:

A babe’s first laugh, a tear’s last sting,

Night breath cradling birds aloft on

Lift of feathered wing. Streams’ laughing

Lilt hummed at rocks’ enduring dam its

Kissing mist that blesses everything.

I hope for quiet & silent time to

Cede complex, chaotic ways,

Sure in simple sense that boast and busy

Whet fears that dry my grasping days.

Can simple usher us at end to halls

Both calm and still? To know

We’ll never know that nothing lasts? That

Nothing will? That solid

Secrets longer hide in

Lives of loud despair? That

Strident perfect never comes; that

Simple is our home to share.