Didn’t you just
catch yourself
almost tipped

too far to jerk
back? Just—
almost—like

Li Bai out of
his boat,
reaching

for the moon’s
reflection, just
that one

embrace?

It’s nailing Jello
in place. It’s
hugging clouds.

It’s finding that
Brigadoon
instant again.

Look, over
there.
This time,

lean in. No.
Lean out . . .
Almost.

Here’s the question I have to ask myself —
Why is it I go on baking the words
When clearly all that might go on a shelf?
Isn’t “scratch” when instant is there absurd?

Why go to the trouble of scattered flour
When a plastic wrap at the store will do?
No need for dirty dishes and midnight oil
When it’s all already baked for you.

Yet the attraction of what’s difficult
Isn’t only in the tiny finesse.
There’s a larger duty that’s grandly built,
Which may be recipe to the soul’s largesse.

Say what we will for what the easy brings,
Slowness is beauty, despite everything.

Passion Contents