I just couldn't shave it off without saying a few words first...
Ode to a Beard, mine.
Manly instigator, John
the Baptist bug collector, wild shrub, scruff
scrubbed still saving soup, water
for the desert seasons, fullness
of the forest silent after snowfall, snug
about the smile dreaming mountain
stream, in a hand hewn canoe
Jeremiah, caveman snapping twigs, twirling
twine of a thoughtful chin
fireside and wise as itchy as mammal
as prey as proud as proof of many moons
and musky lonesome ways.
I wear it on my face, my brazen
shield, my holy place, an older way without
a reason, a blade, a frock,
a scent, a scene, a trace.
Oh, dear friend do
Cloak the ruddy, cover the scarred,
wear the surface and every fearful fact,
be an angel, an ancestry, a true beard, be mine.
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