Wombats don’t eat lettuce.
“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
– Aesop
It was a simple act,
Done on an impulse.
The outer leaves of a lettuce
Were presented, as an offering.
Nothing. Marsupial indifference.
◊
But life’s like that, isn’t it?
Or, at least, it should be.
Little acts of kindness
Thrown like bottles
Into the tumbling sea of life.
Maybe they are found.
Maybe not.
Sometimes the message arrives.
Sometimes not.
But that’s not the point—
Just keep throwing.
◊
Love it - though I am surprised that wombats don't eat lettuce.
ReplyDeleteThey do like parmesan, though.
DeleteThat’s it! Parfait
ReplyDeleteThat wombat…!
❤️
DeleteYour poem is very kind and thoughtful; I truly enjoyed reading it. The message about kindness resonated deeply - it’s such a beautiful reminder of the quiet power of compassion.
ReplyDeleteKeep Throwing
Kindness never makes a plea,
no thanks, no praise, no guarantee.
You may not see where it will fall,
or if it’s noticed much at all.
But in the earth or heart or sky,
it blooms where hope and love can lie.
So cast it freely, let it fly,
like seeds the wind will scatter high.
No need to know how far they’ll go -
just keep throwing, let it grow.
Thank you. If you shoot enough bullets, you will hit the target occasionally.
DeleteIt's an interesting way to think about kindness.
DeleteTrue. I was thinking more of a metaphor for the repetitive throwing.
DeleteLighten up JCN, I think that was tongue in cheek. 😁
DeleteI eat lettuce, so I guess I'm not a wombat! But, I hope I am never not kind.
ReplyDelete