painting by Richard Rensberry
If my thoughts had wings,
they’d fly to Manhattan
like doves or swans
pure white. They would
enrapture your face
with eternal smiles
and feed your laughter
the screams and shrieks
of a summer child.
Every hour of every day
would open like a field
wild with flowers…
perfect. Every thistle
and every bud
would add to the sum
of all we love; and nothing
outside the mother of joy
could change our course
of hope. If my thoughts had wings,
you’d hitch a ride
and fly that infamous coop.
Poet's Corner 