Are the lions drinking or drowning today?
And what sort of whimsy may come into play?
If I skip the long walk and get carried away
By a piper whose horn touts – fat ladies, wahey?!
Do I find inside mercy, or terrible pride?
Am I fearful of friends from whose habits I hide?
Is there just cause to question the ways we go wild?
Or conceal what we feel to keep on in our stride?
With a pace at once terrible, tortuous, slow
We make progress an inch at a time, so we grow
And though others may ask us – do they want to know?
How we got where we’re planning to stay when they go?
I cannot give an answer – my answer is no
Guarantee of it working for anyone, so
Do not plead my response – I don’t do it to show
To the world: mine – the best
Way to reap what you sow.
mentor
We three kings
What can I give you
But words from my lips
A breath for your lungs
The breadth of my hips
To feed you and clothe you
And shelter you there
Our hope for the future
Small star that we share
In misunderstandings
All foster more strife
Too coy for the joy
Of a conflict-free life
No formal pronouncements
Of greatness to be
We limit announcements
To those we can see
In feeble concealment
Until you are grown
We’d raise you for strength
A mind of your own
And watching your progress
Will whisper as one
The charms that may comfort
Your sorrows to come
With hands in my pockets
Concealing all pain
I’d walk through the desert
To find you again
Katherine Shirley 