Thursday, March 29, 2007

Sorry

How to tune to the key of something flat
or sharp, or even natural;
when next follows last so jointless
that natural functions cease

to find time for either sit or stand
and rush on in no balanced way
spiraling further off course
with yet another change

The long slow notes of steeple bells
send rhythm to the soul

to measure long a life
that passes much like wind
playing its short tune
in no particular key.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow!

floots said...

love this one
especially that final stanza
thank you

polona said...

my first reaction to this was wow!
love it!

Annie Wicking said...

Wonderful, Steve..

Annie

steve said...

thank you each - like most of them, I don't really know where they come from. But I do know that I laughed so hard at the last stanza that I had to leave the room...ah well. It's wonderful to have the chance to write a bit.