GIFTS

GIFTS

Gifts fall unbidden into our laps, they catch us unawares.
The cutest baby in her bonnet, the puppy on the leash.

The kind word of a stranger, that heals a wayward heart
And rescues hope like a refugee, flailing in the ocean.

Gifts ask for nothing, they charm and beguile,
Dressed in bows and ribbons that sail in the breeze.

A chiseled young man on a sandy shore,
A big bosomed lady in the market square,
Wearing a rose in her long flowing tresses.

Gifts arrive, arms outstretched in myriad disguises
And laid at our doorsteps by a cosmic UPS.

The lover who surprises with a noontime rendezvous,
His kisses holy mischief that punctuate the air.

Gifts in their timeliness blow us off course
As the wreckage of the day surrounds us,
And we butt up against the final frontier,
Scavengers for peace, lost in our death and our dust.

Gifts bind our hearts in a desperate thanksgiving,
And we bow bent and humbled, aching to trust.

The years leave us starving, too few morsels fall,
Like manna from God in a snit of benevolence.

So fill up your basket, though the favors are few,
With the sweet smell of hyacinths drenched in redemption.

The gifts that fall unbidden in slow, languid motion
And keep us here yet one more day to traipse this lonesome planet.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED