Faith

I believe in myself somewhat more than I believe in a god or horoscopes but certainly less than the reliable rising of the sun or the moon’s clockwork circles.

More than nearly none and less than all.

In winter I cracked open, the words rushed out and I followed them. Seeking faith seeking rhythm, seeking circles inside. Belief waxes and wanes as the constantly inconstant moon.

I believe in myself today, tomorrow I’ll ask the circles.

April is for fools and flowers, spritz and showers. It’s also National Poetry Month. You should read at least a poem a day in a bland month, but this month you should inhale poetry.