To much of the world
is a grotto under a church in
oh little town.
To others it’s a sacred monolith in Mecca
or along the banks of the river Ganges.
Some feel it’s the killing fields of Gettysburg
or where their hearts are buried South Dakota.
And others find hallowed
two holes in Manhattan
and one in Pennsylvania.
But to me it’s much easier than these
because my holy land begins with
a table and two chairs
and an initial kiss hello
outside of a coffee shop
on a warm November morning.
from my ebook of poetry and short fiction “Songs you can’t dance to” – available on Amazon, B&N, and iTunes.
copyright 2012 Steven Harz
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