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By Randy Rich
Other Poems by Randy Rich


Caves of glass  

are built thought at a time,

until the landscape

becomes an evening of long

shadows, of birds with no voices,

of green and red trapped in

grey boxes. It all seems so natural,

the moving beaks, the dancing shadows,

the paint-by-number counselors.

Until one day, without notice,

songbirds on the spruce tree

begin to sing through the shadows,

the yellow butterfly

flutters across the garden,

grey boxes open to the sun,

the crescent moon appears  

against the blue and gold

of the evening.

For the first time, again,

the world opens its secrets,

God says, "Hi, Love".

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Submitted: Friday, June 5, 2009

Last Updated: Friday, June 5, 2009

About the Poet
I am married and have two beautiful children. I am a Professional Christian Counselor and Director of services for children at a local community mental health center.

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