At certain angles
Delphi appears to be a long river
with a man standing
in the flat bottom of a rectangular boat
polling it forward.
At another angle
each of her spoken words
forms a picture
of a house that means home
with the smell of hot apple pie.
Head on you see your church
and a bell in the tower
that peals bird songs
and the freshness
of the instant an April shower ends.
From the backside
you see the uninvited stranger
who threatens you
by reminding you to live the core
of your belief set every day.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
Thank you for wearing a face mask
as you look from the outside through the window to see me.
Thank you for the lines at the edge of your eyes
that tell the nature of your smile.
Thank you for walking my three-legged dog
while I am blighted.
Thank you for painting mountains on the window
knowing how much it heartens me to see them.
Thank you for your personal appearance
even though you could FaceTime from home.
Thank you for holding up an unrolled yard of sod
so I could be refreshed by green grass.
Thank you for playing bird songs during our conversations
so I could feel my backyard in this hospital room.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney