Today's Reflections

Image Credit: Jim Fuess

But will you pray
when I am bedridden?

Pay charlatans
for hope? My cure

is the surround
of your shoulders

that press
buried beating

beneath
my shy breasts.

* * * * *

I pray, that after
I'm gone,

your field of beckoning
sprigs and curlicues

will undulate
under wanded fingers,

clouds disperse from under
your brave breastplate.

Your cure will be
anothers' love.


-- Judith Pordon