Please forgive a spurt of unexpected crazed depression. I’m glad it’s not a free night at dVerse, else I’d be embarrassing myself worse…
image: notquiteold.com Nancy Romans
DOWN IN THE TRUMPS:
A SPOOL OF THREAD IS GRASPABLE,
SOLID. IT COULD BURN, or SPLINTER,
EVEN ROLL ALONG A PLANE. WHY
THEN DO WE NOT WORSHIP IT?
SOME SPOOLS OF THREAD WERE HERE BEFORE
US AND WILL BE HERE LONG AFTER.
SURVIVAL IS A WORTHY CAUSE.
AT LEAST IT’S WORTHY, IS IT NOT?
THINGS HAVE THEIR OWN WAY OF BEING,
NONCHALANT, UNHURRIED, SEDATE.
WHAT WOULD IT BE LIKE TO WORSHIP
A SPOOL OF THREAD, EVEN EMPTY?
I’M SLIPPIN AND SLIDING TO THINK
SUCH THINGS, BUT AM BROUGHT TO WONDER
WHAT WORSHIP MEANS. RESPECT FOR AN
OBJECT OF ESTEEM, WEBSTER SAYS.
AT LEAST YOU CAN TOUCH AND LICK IT,
SEE AND HOLD IT, AND SNUGGLE UP.
BUT DO I ESTEEM IT? MAYBE
AS MUCH AS ANYTHING, THESE DAYS.
Lovely poem Nan!
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Good greetings to you, my friend. Thanks!
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Sounds like honest angst here, Nan. Yes, survival is a worthy cause! I believe there is a God who is worthy of worship (we all worship someone or something…even a spool of thread LOL). Peace to you.
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Thanks for your kind words, Lynn.
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