Sometimes, it’s fun to unearth an old-fashioned poetry book, one which has a lot of good poems, vital and essential and award-winning poems, but which in addition has a number of more average attempts to charm or woo our interests. And among these more average poems, there are always a number of poems, even by major authors, which “point a moral and adorn a tale,” to quote a phrase. They are collected as a form of offering comfort in addition to presuming to give guidance, because many people find reassurance in the mere fact that someone else thinks it possible to give guidance at all, with our poets (and poetasters, sometimes) becoming our spiritual parents, teachers, leaders. So, with appreciation for all those poems I was forced to read in childhood by my teachers, poems which were usually of this ilk, and which reinforced their ideas with rhymes and other poetic devices, I offer this poem of my own, which came along as most poems do, mysteriously to some degree, deliberately to some degree:
Aggregates Little pebbles gathered up Make a mighty mountain Little waters borne together Gush a fulsome fountain Little kisses, little hugs Raise our expectations Little lies and little slights Douse our speculations. Little moments, little days Bear us slowly deathward Little glories, little rays Show our sun at westward. Little hopes and little fears Sum up our claim on heaven Little sins and little graces Weigh our scales down even. When we must, we add things up As well as we are able So let us live by careful sums Here ends my counting fable.
©6/21/18 by Victoria Leigh Bennett