The Words

The Words

shift

like sliding, overcast

shades of gray,

dark and forbidding

and then the break.

The apple of Apollo’s eye

turns golden

and The Words shift like

rippling waves

of green

in the

windblown grass.

They feel better,

freer,

like bare feet

wriggling toes in the soil.

The Words grow

taller, stronger,

happier

They spill out energetically

like

tossed dice,

for all to see and hear

loaded

with life.

© Alfred W. Smith Jr

A Handful of Stars

If you could

hold a handful

of

stars

what would you do with them?

puff them away

like

dandelions fluff

and make

random wishes?

toss & scatter them

like

silver coins

into the

sea?

make clusters of them

spin

like

pinwheels?

or let them

slowly slip

through your

fingers

spilling them

back into

the sky?

If you could

hold a handful

of

stars

what would you do with them?

© Alfred W. Smith Jr