After yesterday’s virtual lambast and trumpet call regarding some issues I am currently passionate about either supporting or resolving, I was very blessed to remember my quietly fulfilling spousal relationship:



We seemed mismatched

                           as we chose opposite sides

                                                       of the tree to lean upon,

One looking over the hill,

                          the other looking

                                                         into the recent valley.


We seemed mismatched

                             as one bent over to humble labor

                                                                                    with sticks

                         while the other sat designing with



We seemed mismatched

                            as one must finish the overlapping

                                              edges of  the day

                                                            with matching bindings

                            while the other closes eyes to that

                                                       old sweet song from

                                                                  joined limbs in youth.


We seemed mismatched

                          as one stopped leaning and looking

                                                                and bending and binding

                        to touch the other in borrowed designs

                                                             singing dreams of the now.


Our touching colors us well-matched as two bookends

                                              required to hold our life-chapters.


Tomorrow, I plan to post about how we in this writers’ community jostle around day by day to match just well enough to help pull each other down the road to our goals!



%d bloggers like this: