Tag: Poetry

It is enough 

that the breeze 

is cool 

and the mockingbird sings

its thirteen songs.

It is enough,

though Ted is dying

and Barbara 

as well as Nancy died suddenly,

that even so

I feel their love.

Not enough is the angry demand

That becomes too much

Like  the avalanche,

the overdose.

Even overjoyed lands hard

on the rocks of reality.

Enough pulls us back

From the the collapsing cliffs of our desires.

It is enough

that I walk a mile or two

with trees my kin, 

not merely branches and bones

but expressions of earth’s love

our roots and veins intertwined.

We want more 

as if the  balance

created by earth and ocean,

that knows what should flourish or fade

and times the seasons like a clock

Is not enough.

Oh, if only we knew,

If we could see

we are more, 

more

than enough.