Jeff Hardin
No Need for Alarm
The tiniest of mushrooms has sprouted just off the porch.
Three days of rain can banish even the mind.
What happens next feels like a companion
come across Time's plain with news from the Far.
We are safe, at least for now, but a verdict's soon to come.
If wise men came to our door, would we be disregarded?
How long is proper before washing the widow's handkerchief?
It's not possible to live in a world where tree bark doesn't instruct.
It's not possible to live in a world without occasional blooms
from the dogwood struck wet and white on the morning windshield.
O Life ought to be thrilled with itself, nothing but long hours
and a million bird songs to breathe on its behalf.
Even a bottle cast out along the roadside will see itself
eventually filled. And so will a man if he sits long enough.
Jeff Hardin, 1999.