it is the little things
that consume me...
the daily minutea
that others miss...
or deem discardable.
it is these.....
small moments
i am drawn to..
that.. i focus on......
as the big picture sails by
piccolo thoughts
and lilliputian dreams...
.... engage me.
encouraging me to ..
flights of fancy....  
expansive in expression...
....snatches of conversation
half finished gestures.....
are bread and butter
.... sustaining me.
...tiny bits of tree twiglet,
when they grow...
what stories could they tell.
a christmas stamp stuck to the
cement pavement...
i would hate to pay
the postage on sending that package.
always...and always
in the back of my mind....
the sea....
full of teeming....
tiny floaty things for me...
to inadeaquately... describe
and love... i write love  well....
then there are....
.... the familys forgotten moments
...gathered by my quill
we..... as poets... are life's truest horder's .....inscribing life on sky and tree.....
we see and hold....
....and feel and scry.
the minikens... of all .....mankind
with little.. splot, spotches..? of inkspots ..joined to form a line.
of words to open hearts...
..and free encumbered mind

Planes and stuff leave all the time.
Don't like all the chemtrails left behind,
But we muster on.
Believing, and we must,
We'll get through.
Most of us do.
This will improve.

Clothes and such are left lying around,
All over house and town;
We can pick them up,
By bending or fetching.
Some never make it back.
Lost, stolen or found.
Replacements are numerous,
Fixable and discardable.
No big loss. Not life changing.

Then I found a hole.
What left was immeasurable.
Irreplaceable.
My heart and soul.