Monday, December 26, 2022

A well-made bed

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Dirt in my hands

Cash in my pocket

Seeds in the sand

A plug in the socket.


Water in its banks

The runner in his race

The ship that once sank

Is still in its place.


The grief-stricken moon

That will never leave

The unforgotten tune 

The trick up my sleeve.


There's a place for me

Another for you

A place for somebody

A place for the Jew.


A question has a choice 

A thought has a head

The sound of my voice

Like a well-made bed.


A night ends and starts 

A day starts and ends

The whole has its parts

And we say Amen.


1 comment:

Ken Stollon said...

Everything has it's place. Amen.