Being Awake

I read philosophers at night
Poets in the morning

A river never found
Concerns both

Bread floats on the waters
An old woman drinks from her hands

Call me when you arrive home safely
I’m sitting alone among the spice plants

Yes I make promises
I stand on a horse’s back

Waving pages at the wind

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto