last night,
i hung up my worries
in the closet,
hoping the wrinkles
would smoothe out
by the next day;
i put my fears
into the laundry,
so they would
be clean enough
to wear again this week;
i made sure that
pebble called stress
was still in my shoe,
where it has worn
a hole into the heel.
but this morning,
when i opened the closet,
i found
a whole new outfit,
woven out of
Easter lilies
and resurrection's
sweet grass
and sandals
made out of
sparrow's feathers.
turning,
i found you
standing there,
a tape measure
around your neck,
chalk in your hand,
saying with a smile,
'try them on . . .
so we can see
if any alterations
are needed'
(c) Thom M. Shuman
Friday, February 25, 2011
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