Hope

Sorrow,
like a bass clarinet,
            groans within the soul –
A low howl of discontent
searching for resolve –
            Stepping through the scales of life.

This is why the world needs flutes and bells.
And so I go into another day,
                                                              listening.

At A Park Near The Fox River - Geneva, IL

Under the playground set, fifteen boys,
And the girl with always skinned knees,
Are looking for spiders –
Empty water bottles in hand,
With hopes of being the possessor
Of a rare specimen.

The world full with movement:
Hiding spiders, trill screeching children,
A wondering poet on a park bench –

When a toad is found thirty yards away;
A lone child’s discovery turned enterprise –
As all the children, like bees, swarm away
With only imaginations in hand.