April 29, 2015

Suburb of Should. {Poem}

Photo: Michael Barry via Flickr.

We dwell in perfect compliance with

delusions of self-reliance in
the realm where disease is called “could”—
a plot in the suburb of “should.”

We gave up looking for the sun, so
instead lie back and poke fun, at
droll birds in sad clouds, a mocking
of soldier ants below flocking

Now one mentor walks on the grass, he
missed signs to use the brick path, and
gives the children back their marbles
naïve of parents, hot and startled.

Then out through the gate he went, but
not without brief sentiment, wished
we join his pilgrimage to Love
through the weeds and dust from above.

Walking to suburbs yet ahead, we
talk of joy, the mystery meant by
walking in the grass, blades poking through
the choice of the foot…..
each and ev’ry toe.



The Big Bad Perfectionist. {Poem}


Author: Sherry Minnard

Volunteer Editor: Kim Haas / Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Michael Barry via Flickr

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Sherry Minnard