In the sagacious wisdom of foolishness
I study daily -- some teacher has taken
me by the ear hoping my heart can
follow where I'm led, cuffed
my mind with words that make
no sense as they open in meaning
my experience is yet to confirm.
I'm not beyond the rebuff of a heart
pumping gold, red blood mixing
to a blood meridian
as some switch from a silver maple strikes
the back of my calves cracking with the
cackling of laughter and the gasped
"You think too much! Logic is a toy
compared to the workings of the heart,
the great mystery that never gets any clearer
but is better and better the deeper
we go into it."
I laugh and the red marks disappear.
Stained Glass Writers of Punxsutawney