Due

I fear I forget that the frail,
nearly unable,but
when a whisper of will...
when they muster an incalcuable
measure of reach
to straighten, and lean up
for what's due
That's alot to wait for











The freshest thing in the clearing,
by the pond's sunk boat,
near a nest, There's this ringing
drop, possibly just now dotted
one leaf, left just new
by the dew.
that's what I wait for.