I tie the ribbon in a foolish way,
fumbling as its length stretches
into knots not planned,
into circles too large for their space.

There is a delicious fragility
in the travesty that one can create,
a stumble here, a leap there, too often
wishing for a solution outside myself.

Still, there is time for those intervals
when one is to laugh and wish and ponder,
to put aside one’s regret for long past errors,
which had perhaps caused harm to another.

Better, I think, to remember
those glorious moments when all went well,
when love took center stage and
infused a circle of adjoining lives



About degus221

A Kansan who has migrated to Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Reflections and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to CIRCLES

  1. Ann Douglas says:

    I love this! Clearly age is serving you well, Gus.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Speaking of age, Palm Springs has so many members of the “club.”


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