“Simplicity, simplicity,
simplicity!” with Henry
is my cup of tea
no sugar or cream for me
and I’ll take my coffee
black in a plain cup.
And neither shaken nor stirred
let me out of here I want
my drink of water clear
from the mountain stream
of melting snow rushing
to the river to the sea.
My love too must be simple
when cold we burn the yard sale
knickknacks of romance
and in silence with animals
and plants pray for our children
that they too may find simplicity.
This prayer of which we speak
must be simple, needs no words
is nothing, asks for nothing
the morning sun frees the dew
the evening moon replaces
the poem unsaved in a notebook.
The Coming of the Toads 