Thursday, August 13, 2015

Oh...how do I love thee

Oh...how do I love thee 


Will mistakenly Shakespeare do
to expound upon tis love
that hath endured

through

and over rocky terrains
and glorious

Suns and moons
has beclouded skies

Spurned; washed tranquil
til blue?

No, for Elizabeth Barrett Browning
knew
of tis ... too. She who wrote:

How do I love thee.

But for me

there's no need
to count the ways.

All my days
With cup in hand,

lately straight
black raises me
to barely stand

before Birds
chirping

eagerly for dirty worms
or other treats from
parental beaks.

Seated and poised
before the dawn of
any given day

Meditating
or in silence
praying.

Or during
daily annoyances
and distracting noise

traffic and delays.

With constancy I love you
I do--

this loyal liquid
(not instant but brewed.)

Though in the past

cup after cup
proved not enough.

I drank it greedily
varied 24/7

as newlyweds.

Now, the mere smell
makes me smile

content to surround
myself with heavenly aromas
in specialty cafes.

Anywhere and
in any emergency

Morning or noon

a pot hot,
not luke warm,
always ready.

Steadily,
I pace myself
with tis love

at times bitter
to consume.