Tuesday, July 15, 2014

The Cauldron of Little Places

A dear friend of mine wrote a poem about a small church wherein it just kept bubbling a way ...

So I wrote the following as prose ... he suggested I put it into a poetic form ... which I did:

sometimes the cauldron of little places, 
with little people fussing around 
with little things becomes an impossible soup … 
best to push the bowl of soup away 
and let it cool, 
or maybe just congeal …

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