If you stare at it long enough
the mountain becomes unclimbable.
Tally it up. How much time have you spent
waiting for the soup to cool?
Icicles hang from January gutters
only as long as they can. Fingers pause
above piano keys for the chord
that will not form. Slam them down
I say. Make music of what you can.
Charles Rafferty
This poem makes me shout (metaphorically), "YEAH, BABY!"
ReplyDeleteI think this is a great resolve, chick. Seriously.
Love that picture of the tower with the mountain in the background. Really makes you know that you live in the shadow of a volcano. :)
ReplyDeleteYes, but I live on the tip-top of the highest bit of the city. Besides, if a volcano took me out, I could quit this endless job-hunting.
ReplyDeleteAhh, true. Of course, you wouldn't get hit by any lava from the Cascades, but by the Pyroclastic Flow of mud. You being on the top floor, I guess you might be above it ... to survive in a sea of mud.
ReplyDeleteJust a happy thought for the day.