I Wait For The Words In The Quiet Of Morning Poem by Shalom Freedman

I Wait For The Words In The Quiet Of Morning

I wait for the words in the quiet of morning
They come easily
I still have my mind
One day
Who knows how long?
The piece of machinery will break down and cease to function
I will be at best capable of babbling
And at worst capable of nothing at all
In any case
I have words now
I call them Poetry
Perhaps they are
It is not as bright a day as I thought
And Shabbat it will rain
The world I see is a beautiful world
But this too will go away
Life is the leaves through the window
Green and golden
Life is the day before me
I pray my wife will feel better today
God how many contradictions can one poor soul endure?