Poem for April 6

Long and convoluted by very awesome spring day. Veda and I went to a park, played in a creek, screamed a bit, tried to nap but couldn't, ate some pumpkin seeds and danced to an African drummer in the GreenLife parking lot. Then we came home and while Papa Bear worked on building some raised beds in the backyard, we grilled some tofu, tossed some salad, mixed up some wicked dressing, washed some dishes, fussed a little bit and ate some supper. Now it is time to sleep....

And thus, from nowhere in particular shoots this verse....


Thanks

Tonight it is beans again
and rice, and maybe some carrots
if they're cheap.

The spring breeze floats
through the ripped screen,
The bluegrass ripples

Past me from the half-broken
Boombox I've considered
throwing away, but am too lazy.

Though I long for sushi,
I know we are blessed
with this simple meal because
I remember

The man in Yang Shuo
with no legs, who shared
jokes with us as he begged.

And the father in Hanoi
with the melted face
and torso from the napalm

who tried to smile when we
gave him a coin, but couldn't,
so his toothless wife did for him.

And those babies in the Mosquitia,
playing in the sun, under palms,

with ribs like my daughter's plastic
xylophone,
sleeping under a roof of cardboard.

We, the blessed, we have these gifts:
The wind, and our roof, and our forgetfuless --
And those who share them with us.

We are blessed.