today the warmth returned
and the blond-haired boys were
running wild through beds
of brittle hydrangea
and barren rose canes
when the littlest
still unsteady on his feet
caught his teddybear bib on a thorn

a life incredible, vivid, excellent.
today the warmth returned
and the blond-haired boys were
running wild through beds
of brittle hydrangea
and barren rose canes
when the littlest
still unsteady on his feet
caught his teddybear bib on a thorn
poor, his bed is not
even his to claim
at least in human reck’ning
could this be the one
ev’ry soul longs for?
this, and my dreams, are all i bring
for i, being poor, know naught else to do
here is a poem
Read Morewhat does your voice sound like?
Read MoreGlück, hab’ ich gesagt
Read MoreSunrise met the meadow stark and spare
Read Moresome poems are easy to write …
Read Moreremind us, O Lord
when we hunger
i am the lad who gets up at night
and peeps in at windows, face shining bright