Feeding My Soul Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Feeding my soul,
I look at barns
and want inside

Feeding my soul,
I smile at children
and touch their hands

Feeding my soul,
I talk to truckers
and watch them cry

Feeding my soul,
I tip the hobos
and hear the truth

Feeding my soul,
I count the geese
in southern flight

Feeding my soul,
I love my family
wife, and friends

Feeding my soul,
I wander in the sea air
and smell the morning

Feeding my soul,
I catch the devil
in disguise

Feeding my soul,
I trade redemption
for the promise of another wish

Feeding my soul,
I write these words,
—feeding my soul

(69th St. Philadelphia: August,1977)