A Hand in the field points the way
But let's not talk of sorrows
or sufferin
Instead be on your way
gathering like morning dew
nepenthe each day
For happiness cannot meet you out there
if planted here you stay
fallow is the garden, imbittered.
new seed you must find beyond you walls
to renew a spirit withered
from up the road a voice calls
Hi ye thither
Overtake the winded white rabbit!
Less Turtle, more Dove.
Tim (Archer Rhodes) Hoppe
Copyright �2003 Tim Hoppe
4:44 p.m. - 2003-09-24