The Alphabet of Love

by Bart Edelman

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The Book of Life

He had cultivated
Love in a windowbox,
So high above the city
That he never saw the street.
Daily, his patient fingers
Nurtured the soil,
And watched seed
Slowly turn to stalk,
And stem become flower.
Here was goodness
He could hold
In the palm of his hand,
Bright sunlight which danced
Down a deserted hallway,
And crept across
The drab little room,
Where, page by page,
He pressed each precious petal
Into the book of life.

---

The Crow's Nest

The crow came soon
To rest among feathers-
Cool to the claw,
Warm on the wing.

The crow did not know
How long it had been,
Since this downy bed
Tucked another bird
In the soft grasp of spring.

For all the crow cared,
It may well have taken
Nine beaks to build the nest,
But it was of no consequence.

When a lonely crow
Measures the black stars
Against a glass sky,
Nothing can safely pass
Between night and sleep.

---

The Great Dark

Agleam, aglitter, aglow-
Even the faintest star
Always knows how far
To cast its light
Around the unsuspecting moon.
What little hope remains,
We tuck inside a pocket,
Seal within an envelope,
Lock behind a door.
And, still, there's no guarantee
That what we see
Illuminates the great dark.
Could the firefly speak,
She would reveal
The story of her life,
Where day becomes night
With just the sudden flick
Of an internal switch.
If only it were that simple
For the rest of us,
Caught somewhere in midair,
Flying through the gloom-
Our fluorescent search begun,
Love's labor never done.

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More poetry by Mr. Edelman..

The poems contained on this home page are protected singly and collectively by the copyright laws of the United States of America, and shall not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express written permission of the author or his designated agents.

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