Finding Peace

The sun paints a peach base-tone
Across the sky
Where barren branches reach like splinters
In the continuity of life,
Unsure which direction to take
They venture forth, all or nothing,
Only to be painted over
With a fresh coat of black 
-- Sometimes spelled bleak --
As night sets in,

Lost in the dark, waiting for morning
To define the path.
It all depends which way the wind blows

Water seeps through the cracks
Of a fragile existence
Testing the glue that mends the weakest joints
Stretched to breaking point
By the sudden fall 
From dancing with the wind in the treetops,
Stopped just short of rock bottom
By the umbilical cord
A father refuses to cut loose.

Riding on the top of a child's spinning toy
Where will it stop today.
It all depends which bump catches it first.

Perception is a funny thing, often blurred
By the amount of fire in the sun
Or how many shadows are cast
Across the face of the moon.
Twenty paces are still twenty
Whether it be day or night
Nobody moves the edge when the lights go out,
The challenge is to find it in the dark.

Close your eyes and hold out your hand
Have faith in your feet,
And count to twenty ... and never forget to breathe


april 2009
Janet Reid





Awarded by Poetic Constellations