A wayward whiff

of honeysuckle in the park

is not enough

yet is enough for me;

likewise, sudden autumn roses

white and wild

or some other savory flavor

rising up and reaching out.

Or, rising with a friend or love

to sight a full-cast moon

rise, set, soar, or be eclipsed;

or, while lying on a lazy midnight lawn

beneath the velvet plush of black abyss

above that's only almost everything,

spying a shooting-star shower, like a parade, 

and counting the countless floats of light and hope; 

Doses of such cheap treats, though never enough,

have been my analgesic, my anodyne;

so I shoot up with Here-I-Am

not hooch or heroin.

Not that a life is painless;

no day is.  

And what's "enough," of course,

but point-of-view?

Still, rather than join you

on your jagged journey,

might I suggest you

please do

hand me that,

just for a little while.

I'll hold it for you

and I'll hold you, too.

Let's go for a walk or a ride;

look up, around,

and even to each other;

witness this weary world

of woes and worries answered by the gods

of evening mauves and ribboned reds and inkless indigos;

of meteorites and moistened moons, tonight;

and, right now

honeysuckle

in the park! 

James B. Nicola’s poems have appeared in Quibble; the Antioch, Southwest and Atlanta Reviews; Rattle; and Barrow Street. His full-length collections (2014-2023) are Manhattan Plaza, Stage to Page, Wind in the Cave, Out of Nothing: Poems of Art and Artists, Quickening: Poems from Before and Beyond, Fires of Heaven: Poems of Faith and Sense, Turns & Twists, and Natural Tendencies (just out). His nonfiction book Playing the Audience won a Choice magazine award. He has received a Dana Literary Award, two Willow Review awards, Storyteller's People's Choice magazine award, one Best of Net, one Rhysling, and ten Pushcart nominations—for which he feels both stunned and grateful. A graduate of Yale, he hosts the Hell's Kitchen International Writers' Round Table at his library branch in Manhattan: walk-ins welcome.