Peter Chapman Poetry

Grace (a child's tale)

i'm living in a state of grace
(with my loves upon my face)

walking backward in March today
(in this wind so brave it's chaste)

when i see how to care past circumstance
(is best)

and behind what was in front of me
the rules of engagement like grit scatter--

giving you some, then some more,
a bit of the worm, with its slow bore
til the dirt pops up, fuzzing everything

and i head to the beach on my bike