Thursday, July 18, 2013

not a preacher

I come from a long line of preachers, I used to say
kinda wanna be one, I used to wish
but when I think of preachers I used to know,
I recall the ones who've fallen

up front on a pedestal, in front of God and everybody
the higher you go, the farther to fall
the harder to keep your balance
I better keep my feet on the ground

whisper truth and love right there
across the table to where you sit, stir
that cup of coffee with laugh-lightener, tear-sweetener
(gimme a double-double of that brew)

lips busy on the sip, my ears hear you
my heart captures your drift
knits our conversation into a net
ready for the catch of the day

so if I lose my balance
your words hold me
and if you lose yours
we both fall with grace

1 comment:

stephen t berg said...

Lovely. Graceful. Thank you.