The Innisfree Poetry Journal
www.innisfreepoetry.org

by John Delaney



In the Open


I look for treasures out in the open—
sea glass, shells, a beach-tumbled, wave-turned stone—
no digging beneath the surface for clams:
much seeks to stay hidden or left alone.

I listen for words so clearly spoken—
“good morning, John,” “what’s up?”, “the sky is blue”—
their meaning has no drift, subtext, or tone:
just thoughtful or thought-provoking and true.

I tend to things before they get broken—
a weak-spined book, my heart, a worn-out tire—
no hunting for the proverbial clue:
the consequences are often prior.

Always, I love what I put my hope in—
small adventures, planting a tree, a kiss—
no wasted waiting for time to expire:
no moment is more important than this.



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