Aug 2018
Missed a step of the stepping stool
smacked the sidewalk with my face
felt like a blithering fool
what happened to my grace
First parched earth of drought
now we’re so soaked with rain
the birdseed’s begun to sprout
dare I holler or complain
I think I need a change of scene
boredom cries for the next valley over
to smell the new scent of green
hear honey bees buzzing clover
They say hearing voices like yours
can be soothing and cozy
but too much harmony bores
and I think a little stink can be rosy
Living life in extremes
isn’t for me and isn’t sound
maybe it’s about stretching the seams
but not to be unbound
I don’t know if balance is my fate
Yes, equilibrium has its uses
but I like a tune that syncopates
and enough spice to excite the juices.
smacked the sidewalk with my face
felt like a blithering fool
what happened to my grace
First parched earth of drought
now we’re so soaked with rain
the birdseed’s begun to sprout
dare I holler or complain
I think I need a change of scene
boredom cries for the next valley over
to smell the new scent of green
hear honey bees buzzing clover
They say hearing voices like yours
can be soothing and cozy
but too much harmony bores
and I think a little stink can be rosy
Living life in extremes
isn’t for me and isn’t sound
maybe it’s about stretching the seams
but not to be unbound
I don’t know if balance is my fate
Yes, equilibrium has its uses
but I like a tune that syncopates
and enough spice to excite the juices.
That recent fall where I hit my head reminded me of the delicate balance of life that is so easily taken for granted. Grateful there was no concussion or any internally serious problem. The external wound already healed. I'd been trying to find a new balance in my faith journey and some of my relationships so the co-incidence of the fall and the other stuff finally emerged into this poem.
