A Fine Breast Poem by Richard Blanch

It is indeed a fine breast
Domed, close to the bone,
A luxuriant simplicity-
Spirited, always upward,
In motion shifting, enlaced
Poised and ready for the best
In life. That one could be? -
It is an encouragement at least,
To come forward,
To be better. To befriend
Whatever might be, to hone
Expectation or at least hope..

What feathered blessings are gathered at hand
What refreshment for a worn heart
What a nest for a tired bird?
Is this the answer? Wait for the word
To be spoken, the wand
To be waved, for the art
Of persuasion to bless,
For the beginning of the dance.

But then, what, from this distance,
Could have been the question?