Sunday, October 31, 2010


Where I lean against a tree and form a lean-too
I hear my voice saying words that are wishful.
I want out of this because it is silly but then
this is preliminary to doubt, preliminary to
the beginning of a resonance I never fully
understand, a conversation that was never
taught me by anything other than wind and
rain, bird and shadow, light of day. Where
the bark touches my temple stray thoughts
settle as a small pressure, pulling ever upward,
crossing me off like the sacrifice I am. Meanwhile,
something is coming to take me down, to show me my
pressing is not necessary. Only the passing of time.


Kathleen said...

Makes me prayerful as I read and re-read.

ron hardy said...

Thank you for reading and re-reading Kathleen.

Kim said...


ron hardy said...

Thank you for the affirmation Kim.

Denise | Chez Danisse said...

In my morning flurry of activity this slowed me down. Now I pause and contemplate. Thank you.

ron hardy said...

You're welcome Denise. It nice to know this poem has some braking action.

Kim said...

O for gosh sakes, are you EVER going to post another poem? Inquiring minds want to know.