Sheila M. Taylor Poems

when we look down
rain barrels and climb
trees and slide
down cellar doors and watch
...

Words cannot explain why Gerald lives in isolation, on the street amidst abundance, while chilling winds envelop him.
Nor can they satisfy the cramping hunger that forces baby Rachel's pathetic whimper nor do they alleviate her pain.
Words are unable to rationalize the need to steal, to hurt, to maim or justify aggression against our fellow man.
Nor can they capture the moment when a ray of light touches a delicate rose as a hummingbird savours candied nectar within.
...