On the Burden of Flowering
Even the cactus wren
surrenders itself
to the task,
though it rarely listens
to my voice. How do clouds
blossom day to day
and leave so little
behind? The bookless shelf
begs to be filled, but instead
I watch the morning age
as the sun arcs higher.
Yesterday you said
the mint marigold
was dying. Today it
stands tall. Yellowing.
O at the Edges 
well suited to the melancholy of the fall season (K)
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I could use a little of that fall weather, melancholy or not!
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As could we all!
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I really like this, Robert–the melancholy, the burden of doing anything, but then the bit of hope at the end.
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Thank you, Merril. My days often seem to follow that same pattern. 🙂
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Mine, too. 🙂
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Wonderful!
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Thank you, Alex!
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This is beautiful. I love the phrasing “the bookless shelf/begs to be filled, but instead”.
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Thank you, Annie. Well, I had to blame the shelves… 🙂
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This is really wonderful.
Words fill the air,
And let’s see how they fare,
And your words shall,
Merge in the world,
As fast as a hare.
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Thank you.
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