With tempers red as a Cardinal’s crown,
We thrust and parry with wordy swords.
We draw lines in the sand, each taking a stand
Out of sorts, the truth out of sight.
With sundry arguments thundering loud,
We cling to our vision,
Forget the origin,
Lose our thought,
Tenaciously cleave to our version of right.
Later we laugh, call argument the spice,
The pepper, the salt, the seasoning of life.
Would there be any less zest, any less worth
If we buried our hatchets and grew peace on earth?

She offered him her star.
Carefully laid in finest tissue cloud,
Wrapped it in the rainbow
And ribboned it with sun.

She traveled far,
Jumping through the rings of Saturn,
In an endless circle
Did she run.

There he stood at center
With arms held close about himself
Allowing her no entrance
Into his universe.
Caring nothing for the distance
She so willingly had traversed.

With arms held close about himself,
He couldn’t feel
The fervent beating of her heart
With eyes shut tight,
He scorned her gift.
His gravity too much to bear,
Her orbit fell apart.

Away she spun
Into infinity
Looking for a place to hang her star.
Unwittingly
She came across
What she had lost
And found a new welcome
In the old place called home.

Three doves on a wire.
Each in its particular place.
Three doves on a wire.
Each in its particular space.
Number Two dove sidles over.
Number One inches away.
Number Three fills the gap.
Looks like Number Two Dove
Found new love today!