On A bridge

For Poetry Monday, I decided to add a picture and large print to a poem posted 12/13/09, stemming from one of many myths about King Midas. The myth, in brief: Apollo had a dispute with Midas and punished him with donkey ears. Midas was understandably embarrassed and hid them under a turban.  His barber knew the secret but it burdened him, so he went to a meadow, dug a hole, whispered the story into it, then back-filled --hoping to be rid of it.  Reeds grew in the meadow, and began whispering "King Midas has ass-ears."  Wind carried the news everywhere.

 On A bridge

(Sunday, December 13, 2009)

I am amazed at 
What things mean.
Devices, by which
The impossible is 
Seen, surround the soul.
What is secret when
Wind and rattling reeds
Repeat what is
Whispered in a hole?

Fenceline Grapes in Water

We have love and
Minds to be out of.
We are not alone
At the brink
Of reason, kindness.
Anything less,
Sanity revokes
Into cosmic jokes -- 
We miss what we had.
No defense except
I haven't intelligence
To go mad--neither
Do you-- I suggest 
We start anew.