Two More Poems

1. Weeds of the World (Unite!)

We invade the invaders and they invade us, these little

Blooming weeds. They raise five flowers and let them blow

Into the winds like sheets of stars. All of us

Steer by their turning tide. All of us will eventually

Fall by their shining example into wintry skies, crisp and

Dispersing everywhere, like snow, but they do not give up

That ghost.  Instead they regrow even the frozen toes of

Heaven into an eruption of abundant walking shoes, the kind

To take you wherever you are going, and with whom.

This is the miracle of green life. It exists solely

To exist. It will not take no for an answer.

It sucks sunshine like it's going out of style and

Spits it back out in puffs of pure oxygenated cookies,

Baked to perfection and ready to eat. And once inside

Of your guts it works its ancient magical spell like

Clockwork, restoring even the most cynical nature back to its

Original joy in simply breathing again. And then of course

Comes another blast on the field from all the trumpets

At hand to signal the war is not yet over

For some of us, we must go on to the

Gates of forever, some alone and some always together.

At either end the greening will take its rightful place

In the conversation about the meaning of all love within

The meaning of all life. And because of that, this

Poem finds its way to you today, making so sure.

Darryl Price

5/20/2015

2. Morning Comes

Morning comes pouring itself slowly up the road

Like a familiar figure you recognize even before

You can make out any of its features.

You know the gait. You're acquainted with the

Certain slope of its shoulders. And you begin

To wonder if it will make it all

The way to your doorstep with this carefully

Packaged box of new day or not. But

It's a steady come on, even in the

Misty rain. It's a sure bet even in

The barking wind's manic persistence to stop and

Play, to pet and hug. Morning moves with

Trained purpose like a dancer among stars. Like

A dolphin beside a cruise ship. The comforting

Sound is subtle, but undeniably close and getting

Closer yet, until you find yourself back to

Life, back to being ready for anything that

Just so happens to look like a movement

In the right direction. And just as quickly

Morning is nothing more than a dot of

Drying color on the canvas of the trees,

Lifting away to join with all the blue

Heads of angels, making the clouds waft their

Perfumes around and around like broasted heavenly beans.

Darryl Price         5/21/15

Bonus poems:

by Darryl Price