Apocrita
1.
You’re allowed to feel dissatisfied.
You do not have to be grateful
for your sweet and blesséd life.
Aren’t there mountains? Yes,
beautiful and mist-drunk, but wild,
still. You just have to keep going,
even though I know it’s hard.
2.
Once I felt like something would hit me
on the head like Newton’s apple. A fable,
maybe, but it’s effective–to believe
in a whole lot of something from nothing.
3.
Do you think the three-legged dog
The sky is the color of buttermilk
and everything green limps humid,
and somehow you know it’s still on the lake,
even though you’re at home in your cool
apartment. You know that
a circus of bugs clamors around the oak tree,
and the birds huddle. It’s okay.
10 thoughts on "Apocrita"
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I especially like your stanza 4. ” The sky is the color of buttermilk and everything green limps humid.” I like the idea that even though a person is in an apartment, they still have front seat to nature in their memory.
Thank you, Ka`imilani! I’m glad the memory of nature comes through
Yes! to: You’re allowed to feel dissatisfied.
Love: The sky is the color of buttermilk
and everything green limps humid,
Thank you, Pam!
2nd stanza a wonder of subtle word play (as is title). I think human DNA is wired to worry, but as you say “It’s okay”…life goes on
I have to remind d myself of that a lot! Thanks, Jim.
And I’m a fan of those beautiful and mist-drunk mountains. Such a calm, trusting voice you have throughout this, Shaun. I’d follow it anywhere.
Thanks, Bill! I was cribbing Mary Oliver’s tone in Wild Geese, a little. Probably less optimistic somewhat
particularly like mist-drunk
everything green limps humid
Thank you, Pat!