Saturday, May 28, 2011

Little Things

Little things, deep inside a jar.

               “I see Grandpa.”

(not where he is, but where you are)

                      “I will live a thousand years.”

       (if there is no war)

And in the rust, beyond all fuss,

       a bright bird makes her home.

               She does everything a flower does,

and does it well, before she’s flown.

Earlier this morning: Less is more (five new drawings)


Wine and Words said...

I love rust. Weathered and beaten but beautiful. Gonna check out the drawings.

William Michaelian said...

Thanks. And to my ear, rust is a great, great word.