A Retreat, Not a Surrender

I thank my lucky stars
for midnight walks,
for mango moons,

and let’s not forget
opposable thumbs
that heal when hurt.

I’m thankful for this tea
that warms me like a poem writ’
with soul and mind in tune.

I’m thankful for moments
of silence that teach me
how to listen.

On this rainy day
when the breeze is warm
and the pines are emerald green,

I’m thankful for most everything,
even the cantankerous poet
who circles in the square

reading his work with a growl.
Gloves on,  gloves off.  Exempt
from apprehension

and the cloak of fear.
That’s the way life is here…
no cabbages or kings,

just poets and their pens
delivering peace and love
and a spattering

of sarcasm on pages oft’ recycled.
A meeting  of minds,  sometimes  heads butt
but please, spare me the paper cuts.

2 thoughts on “A Retreat, Not a Surrender

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