Like Praise

Sometimes I worry a line of poetry
Like a dog hassles an old shoe,
     Shaking the words,
               Pommeling them.
Growling in my throat
Until they tumble out
And rise from the paper
               Like Praise.

Then a word finds the key to my melody,
Singing soft as snow water over stones,
     Murmuring the tune,
               Rushing the rhythm,
Pushing in my mouth
Until they ripple out
And glow on the paper
                Like Grace.

(c)Philomeme Hood                         2003

from Ride Home Through Scented Grass

Pearl Line Press, Zuni, VA