Insulated

From warmth behind the glass
seems cruel to see outside—
the puffed up thrush, shiver
as the north wind bites!
Or in my well stocked pantry
think, the child in drought is dying
for lack of what I give the robin:
the world will never heal
unless we feel the pain that others feel.

     

See this poem on the TGL blog

Copyright 2012 by Roy K. Austin