Taking Measure
Cool nights and mild sunny days make sweet grapes.
Good shoes can reshape the arches.
Holding a hand can balance a difficult step.
And we change—if we didn’t we’d be old crusty socks.
We’d be beef jerky whose double-dose of preservatives
make us taste like cow chips.
What is the measure of all this change?
Sears doesn’t sell a measuring cup
to pour our “daily did’s” or “nightly do’s” into.
Yet we can open a bottle of wine
and know the sun it took in.
We can put bread in the oven
and see the fortitude of its yeast in rise.
We can put the cream of what we do in a churn
and account for buttermilk and butter.
We can take our shoes off, massage our feet
and sooth the steps of each new day.
We can smile and turn frowns around just for grins.
We can look around us and see
the character of heart
of those we have been
through changes with
and in that
take measure.
© 2009 Dan Kantak
Cool nights and mild sunny days make sweet grapes.
Good shoes can reshape the arches.
Holding a hand can balance a difficult step.
And we change—if we didn’t we’d be old crusty socks.
We’d be beef jerky whose double-dose of preservatives
make us taste like cow chips.
What is the measure of all this change?
Sears doesn’t sell a measuring cup
to pour our “daily did’s” or “nightly do’s” into.
Yet we can open a bottle of wine
and know the sun it took in.
We can put bread in the oven
and see the fortitude of its yeast in rise.
We can put the cream of what we do in a churn
and account for buttermilk and butter.
We can take our shoes off, massage our feet
and sooth the steps of each new day.
We can smile and turn frowns around just for grins.
We can look around us and see
the character of heart
of those we have been
through changes with
and in that
take measure.
© 2009 Dan Kantak
No comments:
Post a Comment