I want to be the buckle on my shoe
or a yellow mum in the vase by the table.
I want to melt into one of the stripes on foreign
fabric and live happily surrounded by the other
woven colors without a care in the world.
Rules are written in stone or on signs,
depicted by symbols, suggested in elegant script.
Rules are followed, revered and questioned.
I have often chosen to break them,
although occassionally they come in handy.
the laugh lines around your eyes
paisley designs on my blue bandana
artful buttons and scraps of lace
candles burning in frosted glass jars
red raspberries on the kitchen counter