A Poem on the Website of
the Red Dirt Writers Society


Making Sense
by D. J. Russell (Mar 2007)


I spy
With my non-withered
Eye
A woman, a child,
Roses growing wild
In a field
Untouched

I hear
The voice of God
Moaning through the trees
Answering the pleas
Of the occasionally
Righteous

I taste
And savor with my
Tongue
Memories of childhood -
Cotton candy freshly
Spun

I smell
The lingering fragrance
Of morning
And the faint scent of her
Fresh Ivory-scented
Neck

I touch
The whisker-stubble
Of my fatherís face
If only in my memory
He lives

My soul
Drinks in what is today
Or what is to fade away
And is painted vividly
In the primary colors
Of my senses


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