A Measure of Grace
When you empty the wheelbarrow
of rain-wetted weeds in the spring,
when the seashells along the garden wall
inspire you to sing,
think then, old friend, of how we once were,
and how years have fallen at our feet.
When the world empties itself of me and you,
and our lifetimes dry up from their mornings of dew,
with the breath of the sun on the shimmering leaves,
remember then to say your prayers.
When the cat has his nap near the creaking porch-swing
and I’ve emptied the ‘barrow of earth in the spring,
I’ll think of you, fair weather friend,
and how there’s a measure of grace about you.
By day, a daydream ponderer who never gets his fill,
by night a barefoot wanderer who’s wandering still.
With my bamboo wind, rocks and rain,
what a lucky so-and-so I shall be.
Fingers of light
touch down on the garden
Wild green things grow thick
‘round the entranceway
Spotted fawns have come by,
mother not far behind
Cat sits and watches
C.M. Rivers is a native of the Pacific Northwest. He currently lives in
Ithaca, New York, where he writes and works in the culinary field. His
poetry has appeared in Rosebud Magazine, Orbis International Journal,
and several online literary reviews. His poem “What My Fingers Know” is
a current nomination for the Pushcart Prize. He is at work on a book
of poetry, a book of children’s poetry, and his second novel.
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