by Todd Mercer
The string of days are holy to me. I fumble
for the edges, hold a bead
with the least pressure that it needs not to slip,
slide it down to count with the others.
I’m fending off the past and future,
the nature of the garden ethos
very much a Be Here Now theme.
I’m barring hungry ghosts from this place,
bulldozing re-developers,
keeping these days sacrosanct,
threading them to string.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Exactly what I needed to read this morning. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed and admired this poem, Todd. The ethos seemed almost a Buddhist one and at the same time the "telling" of the beads suggested a rosary. In the end I just took it as a fine personal vision. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!
ReplyDelete