poem day

 Beginning

Now I see that the

answers were never as

important as the questions.

The sun rises, then sets. A

tree grows, then dies.

Objects, meaningful

to some, pass on.

How will

your life be

measured? Things?

Questions? People?

The sand is beneath you.

The tree limbs hover above.

Celebrate, if you believe. Do

you? What do you bring?  The

orange of sunset,  your own

heartbeat in tandem with

another? Tell me. Who

knows  which way

the wind will

blow?

-2013 Kimberly Laustsen