i know gentle
i know gentle from the sound of leaves
scurrying past my window
making music in the quiet cold of fall
i know gentle from watching old women
talk to the college-bound at garage sales
(they know the feeling
of having to give things up)
i know gentle from men that sit on corners
ruffling their dogs' ears
looking through dumpsters behind pet stores
sometimes the only place to meet her
is in the little love
that manages to warm the rosy face of harshness