Things I Love ....

This poem by P.K. Dufault:

Burden

I called you because I could not stand alone

looking north to that skyline --

tree globed with its yellow apples

balancing like a fountain of planets

in the bright light and the blue air.

And because on the way there

I looked at a smooth cirque

the brook had worn in a stone;

and nothing as soft as water

could, by taking care,

have so nestled and polished

that granite mortar; only

by a thousand years of indifference,

of aiming elsewhere.

I wish we might do -- or no,

look back and find we had done  --

some unadvertised thing,

overwhelming and un-self-aware

as water streamlining a stone,

or a tree's kindling in an empty meadow

its casual Hesperides.

~Mara