Sister Andrew John’s Weblog 2

My friend wrote a poem
about buying a wooden spoon.
I wrote one about a whisk broom.

A friend – perhaps the “wooden spoon” friend -
told me the best poems are about the
most unlikely things.

Not of moonlight and love.
Maybe of monkey wrenches or
paper clips or dirty windows.

But I’m not sure.
I think one just needs people
or things that can be people.

I want to convince the reader that
even a whisk broom
can love.