AN ODE TO LEAVING THINGS ALONE: SUZANNE SUNSHOWER

 

There is something to be said
for leaving things alone.

When I don’t,
paintings get overly made up

like old ladies with too much rouge
on sunken cheeks;

and poems begin to stick
to fingers greedy

to write more
when less will do.

There is something
to be said for leaving

well enough alone,
giving time for fresh thought,

allowing new bold strokes
of wit or whimsy

to come later;
creative ideas savored

a proper amount of time
not unlike

sweet candies,
sickening

if gobbled
all at once.