CHECKERBOARD ABOVEBOARD, AND WHAT IT GETS ME CLIMBING TOWARD

When a pretty checkerboard
that spans the floor
comes aboveboard,
its sunny yellow
warms my spirit,

its cooler blues
calm my body mind,

and, once I to a sky high spot
along some magical bean stalk,
have climbed,

I bend my ear
to see
whether there
is such a thing
as the eerie
music of the spheres,
that some have sought,
and some have feared. . .

And, if I breathe real deep and slow,
I dare to think,
although I don’t entirely know,
that maybe I DO hear it.

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This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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