(notes for a poem)

My youth of yore now seems like myth to me, A dream by day and night and twilight; A play of biblical acts and whimsey, Of proverbial meanings and meaningless chore, Made light even then by the learning and a joy of being; When the delight of knowledge and knowing...

High Window

What appeared to be a square of moonlight upon the floor, As I stepped forward with bare foot to see, Turned out to be a fallen pillow in the dark, And I was once again reminded of the magic of pillows, As well as the need of high windows and what can be seen there,...