The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Stones

Each day, I bring my Beloved a stone
nuzzle it between his toes and walk away
maybe it will sprout and bear a smile
or get tossed in the annoyance pile
matters not for my delight is brave
and love is but an offering honed

Each week, I gather garden herbs 
pull up a few overgrown roots
braise some chicken and make some stew
or gather the mint into a steamy brew
matters not for dinner is shared
and love is less noun than verb

Each year, I celebrate another Spring
shuck off the winter-worn carapace
brush my shoulders and don my shoes
or paint my cheeks with lilac rouge
matters not for a face is but a fib
and knowing eyes still kindness bring

Yet life is as short as it is so very long 
a weave of happy paths and tearful songs
the horizon approaches like a studied friend
and then pounces with an unprepared end
it all matters until it no longer stings
and the dawn of eagle's wings shines strong.
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