In that languorous spot of
golden grace
When the sliding moonbeam
sips your face
A distant music fills all
space
Then every grace note
knows its place
I never learned where the
elephants go
To dance at night by the river’s
flow
Hoping to star in a
Broadway show
Humming a waltz, precise
and slow
When a prisoner springs
out the jailhouse door
His face turned south to
the sandy shore
He never thinks of less or
more
There is just that moment
of the open door
There’s a tape to break
when the race is run
A medal to wear when
victory’s won
This is the day that was
made for fun
And even God points toes
to the sun
John Robert McFarland
“I don’t ask for the
sights in front of me to change; only the depths of my seeing.” Mary Oliver
The depths of my seeing
tell me that Katie Kennedy’s Learning to
Swear in America is the best YA novel ever.
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