Sow marvel as
Love wonders
Among uninhibited meadows
And the forgotten in down towns
Wile in difference razes
Its ugly ahead
Only out lusting
Less than a flower
And eyes never looking into
This poem is and ode to the frolicking sovereignty of love. As the great theologian Forrest Gump might say, “Love is as love does.” 
Love doesn’t seem prone to be tied down, although occasionally some try to nail it down. Love likes open feels and seeks out the intriguing gaze of the homeless living in the neck of the woulds of vacant homes aplenty. Mean wile, the close-fisted strike out in idol exploits, only to have, their lies work, slip between God’s fingers, gleaning less regard, then a flower, in ayes without a parent purpose.
May you be wholed the wonderings and wanderings of love, and not miss take what might be sow impotent after awe.
