Refreshment

I went into my garden,
To ease my troubled thought.
To think upon my very deeds,
And what the day had brought.

I went to find the touch within,
Where self and out-side meet.
Beside the bench where Che-belle bloomed,
I slowly took a seat.

I fancied in the calmness there,
A little bit of heaven.
So many pairs of whirring wings,
They must of numbered seven.

An angel, too...there might of been,
Instead of humming-birds.
For I was nurtured with a balm,
That never needed words.

As shadows fell across the path,
It was as if a prayer.
Had struck my words in semblance,
And left refreshment there.


E.P. 1908 - 1989