The little life boat
full to overflowing
cannot offer saving
to another soul.
Should there be
another seeking rescue
he or she must be ignored
for the boat  reach a shore.
So those treading water
watch the little boat diminish
and then finally vanish
allowing  hope to disappear.

The small pond in the valley
whose surface was like glass
because of the windless night
did not reflect the full moon
‘til it was almost mid night.

And when it did
the reflection resembled
an egg  in a frying pan
sunny side up.

Soon the egg slid off center
and eventually spilled
into the grassy shore
and was absorbed –
but some star specks remained
floating around.

The worm had chosen incorrectly
and tried to squirm on asphalt
confusing it with soil
and not having sufficient mental prowess
to discern the difference.

Along came a man who saw its plight –
bent down and flipped that wiggly thing
with a finger tip
to a landscape more amenable.

Not only that
when the early bird came
and sought that worm for prey
the same man stood up and shooed it away
and saved that worm for another day
of dealing with its constant danger.

He spent much of the day
watching leaves
bow to the whims of  of gentle breezes

IHe had no energy to deal with  more
and so he gazed
quite in a daze
taking in
whatever would unfold
outside his window.

The dances of the branches
held him  nearly hypnotized
as Ihe stared and stared
and did not care
for anything beyond his vision.

She put fresh flowers in the vase.
Every day
she put fresh flowers in the vase
as I was wilting.

I think she wished
those flowers would breathe –
would breathe into my soul.

And sure enough
I felt them stir  –
I felt their breath as hope   –
hope requiring
my short supply of patience
to endure.

She put fresh flowers in the vase.
I think
she’ll come again tomorrow.