Some of us
have more to contain
to be little rays of sunshine,
day to day,
but that doesn’t mean
it doesn’t do us more good
to be sunshine
than for us to complain
about our rain.
poem- heard March 3, 2017
I heard the rumble of
my grumblings
and wished
and wished
and wished
for what was glorious and joyful
what was fun and focused
what was
ah
what was.
This is uncomfortable
unsettling
unsatisfying
unbearable.
I heard murmuring
everywhere.
Everyone
grumbling
wishing
wanting
longing
for what was,
what no longer can be,
looking
for change again.
Everyone
and
me.
Shawn L. Bird 