It’s my birthday

I’m not a heart-shape

I was only born on Valentine’s

there are still things

I heart can recommend

like when your bag’s full

you’re on a lonesome road

on a hillside looking out

over places you’ve already been

or winding pathways up ahead

it feels both great and good

to stop along the way

share the beauty and a bit of bread

with a hungry stranger friend.



What meaning flows from

a few lines written


in a book

on a single sheet of paper

on the back of a photograph

left under a brick loosed

from some country stairway

near some lazy stones

along an ancient walkway

on a sunshine cloudless day

where many footsteps pass

with the sound of birds

and a distant tone of bells

warning of sheep grazing

in some green grass field nearby

if no eyes come upon them there

if no hands touch to draw them close

before the rain?