« Tim Scannell » YEARNING The free hand - So great a need - Reaches beyond the Taut umbrella To feel the rain. MYRIAD OF HEAVENS, #43 A word says what it can, In the way that an inch Says it is on a path To the sun. ALADDIN, STAGGERED I wished a quiet pond At dawn before me, and it was. I wished a painted turtle bobbing (Limbs in water-shadow). My third to be the reedy, Muddy shore forever.   Tim Scannell, born in Chicago, has had 1,300 poems, articles and reviews published in over 400 'zines. He lives in the woods, up against the boundary of Olympic National Park, Washington. TScannell5448@msn.com.