Sometimes
Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.
~ Sheenagh Pugh
Picture found here.
2 comments:
Thanks, dear Goddess.
I needed that.
You gave me this poem when my friends' baby died, and I wrote it into the card I sent them. They loved it, too; said it was "perfect."
It's perfect again. Misted me up, in fact.
May it be that way for us.
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