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   . . A poem a day
                                    29 August 1999


i can sing
when i let myself
i can sing
it only takes a forgetting
a lot less regretting
what can not be
well it simply can not
thru the rain
i can see
singing is entirely choice
the thorns
never more than skin deep
the cross
the cross is . . .
to cross over
the bridge, swinging bridge
both hands thus holding
but the feet
i must place
always one over the other
. . . and those times
finding myself mid-river
ankle deep
and bidding me sing . . .
i can
- Sam Hill

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