I’ve ever felt a closeness
To something unspeakably good.
A presence that, without moving at all,
Beats me to my arrival.
But not goading as a competitor,
Or gloating as one so much better,
He drops sweet petals,
Airs the place,
And dispels the shadows alone.
Then he waits for the likes of me.
It makes me wonder
How I can turn so easily,
And even consider something so temporary,
And so lacking.
This is such a perfect poem
It calls out for
The perfect poetic reply
The first is too awkward
The second too obvious
More than a little trite
Next, a little humor
Soon the trash basket overflows
My words inadequate for the task
I surrender the page
Weave a basket
Visit Monet’s garden
Gather timeless blossoms
Select sensuous Georgia O’Keeffe buds
Flowering in exquisite color in the desert of New Mexico
Accept tall and slender calla lilies
Offered by Diego Rivera himself
Explore the meadows of Persephone’s abduction
Craft a garland of the bounty of primordial spring
Find a Delphic laurel branch
And in the golden light of sunset
Pick mythic apples of the Hesperides
And with these tokens
Spread petals at your feet
David Trudel © 2012