Waiting on Morning

The fire is roaring
with a lush
wild energy
that plays on
every string in my body . . .

Life is about
to begin,
again;
with a bright
new day.

Across the bay
the sky opens up,
shy, hesitant
but resolute.

Clouds hold still;
there's a celstial awe
in the air . . .
as I wait
with an open heart
on morning
to whisper in
a good day.

-Kurt Kristensen

Letter Listing Reasons

There are reasons I love
the fence-climbing rose,
the night-blooming jasmine

you planted beside the front
porch, their scents
emerging in the spring air.

I know I should love
the dark green speedwell,
tiny white watercress,
flat mudwort exposed
on sand bars, in summer
low tides, wapato, yellow

water-flag that scatters hard
mahogany seeds in late
fall, small flowered forget-

me-nots transplanted by the pier,
purple loosestrife, heavy-
headed nodding beggarticks,

bog trefoil, pennyroyal, toad-
rush, cow parsnip, the brief
pink nookta rose of early

May. But enough, these too
are reasons I love your domestic rose, your night-
blooming jasmine settled
by the porch, their scents
gracing the still evening air.

-David FilerPortland, Oregon