how soft are the sands your waves roll upon.
when the sky is this clear, can you face the sun.
do ducks dabble in your pond.
do you wear shoes all summer.
do you know
mayfly spinners don’t have mouths,
intestines, long to live—are you ok
with that. have you been held
up to the light—could you see
through yourself. have you fallen apart
yet. have you brought all your leaves
into one pile and jumped in—did you invite anyone.
have you found flicker feathers in the grass.
are the sparkles riding ripples on your pond
precious.
what if they asked these questions in hospitals
don farrell lives in Cambridge, MN with 3 sons, 2 dogs and other critters where land transitions from forest to prairie. He writes daily, obsessively. He holds a monthly open mic at The ARC Retreat Center in Stanchfield, MN and a bi-weekly zoom poetry critique group. He has poetry published in Bodega Magazine, ExistOtherwise, Shoegaze Literary, and New Sqaure, a literary journal of Sancho Panza Literary Society. He hopes to leave this planet without getting what he deserves.