Letting Go

Opus 127

The soft gestures of my impotent love
that aspires far beyond the possible
so it is agitated and gentled
by its own ever intrepid folly

time flies the green edges of summer days
that hold me afloat in heat of my hopes
that bring the harvest of disappointments,
nurturing wealth of my unraveling

I am the instrument of my vision,
I see only through myself, shade that pales,
descendant of fierce intensities
I lapse to wisdom, sea lapping my feet

a kiss on the forehead, pat on the hair,
sweet rendition of lost infinity

Another plug for my book from fifty years ago about a school for teenagers
that was small enough to respect the needs of both learning and development.

It might have a lot to say even today, charged as it was with instructive successes
and failures.  

https://www.amazon.com/School-Magnolia-New-Life-High/dp/B0DX7KM5XP