Sometimes, I wish it took only these words;
like a simple spell cast out in the sky
that turned hard, jagged rocks to gentle birds,
gave the stubborn wingless the will to fly.
But “fish gotta swim, and birds gotta fly”;
reality’s not made just by wishing,
though there are those who think that to just cry
out “catfish” is a method of fishing.
Still, in a way, these words are work enough;
Alone, they move no mountains, as they drip
along the edge where the finish is rough –
but winding their slow way, they too may slip
to the sea, and wear away a whole coast.
Perhaps, by seeming least, they do the most.
14 JUL 2003
