Love Letter To The World (Niort August 2016) Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

A cloud wisp on widescreen blue
grounded hollyhock arcing to heaven
mystery hills of uncertain hue
the sharpness of things near
crumble of bricks, scatter of sticks
foot-shone stone of never ending tread
and this wind-bent tree, alone
in the taunting storm, but with hermit sinew
hoards its years, a crook'd beggar
with wooden bowl
but these are slow things to make
the round whole, the darting wasp
and copulating fly are too quick
for me to try.

who knows how sensible the small
how passionate ephemera
is there an ocean of urge
before they stumble and die?