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Jeff Burt


My father longs for the steady state,
to rise at the same time and set
at the same time, all days at the equator

of life sharing light and dark equally,
no denial of either joy or depression,
anxiety now a fuss over indigestion

or rabbits raiding the garden,
not too old to change, but too old
to recognize change within, or unwilling,

desiring that goodness and promise
should at least be even with evil,
the good fight fought, malevolence held.

The same brick seems to gain weight during the day
and same breath grows heavier toward night,
the steps grow taller, but the moon,

the moon rises large and flat and romantic
the way it always has, still drifts
on the horizon like the shape of longing

the way it always has, and the heart
races not from labor but from love,
as it did in the beginning and now at the end.

© by Jeff Burt.
Used with the authorís permission.

Jeff Burt lives with his wife amid redwoods and coastal fog in Central California. He lives without sidewalks on a two-lane road wide enough for one car, so sees courtesy expressed daily. He comes from a lineage of wordsmiths, a weekly newspaper publisher, a string reporter, a journalist and editor, and two pastors.

Post New Comment:
I hope my children will see me with the gentle eye you bring to this poem. Thanks
Posted 08/15/2019 08:45 AM
Lori Levy:
Posted 08/14/2019 10:49 PM
Jean Colonomos-1:
What a stunning ride!
Posted 08/14/2019 10:33 AM
Gilbert Allen:
I enjoyed the clear, gentle mystery of this poem.
Posted 08/14/2019 09:20 AM
So beautiful.
Posted 08/14/2019 08:55 AM
Posted 08/14/2019 08:26 AM
Great language!
Posted 08/14/2019 07:17 AM
Larry Schug:
A very kind and empathetic way to express love.
Posted 08/14/2019 07:13 AM

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