Summer Sonnet
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Sing of the summer, red birds' sweet calling,
Roses in bloom and bright water rushing.
Green is the world now. Warm breezes sighing,
Caress the sweet fruit on the branch blushing.
Soft is the starlight in summer weather.
Fair is the meadow in moonlight's beaming.
Hand touching hand, beloveds together,
'Neath moon and stars lay peacefully dreaming.
Dance while the summer merrily beckons.
Cold comes too swiftly at summer's ending.
Whilst a kind star this old world's fate reckons,
Hold fast to bright days, delight befriending.
Make merry 'til the season's course is run.
Rejoice! Celebrate! Summer is begun!

New Sower
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I planted pennies on the sidewalk in the last rainstorm.
I most certainly, madly did.
Soaking wet and singing,
With thunder my only rhythm,
I wandered to and fro,
Scattering copper covered zinc like the sower in the old story
The sower in the story scattered seeds
I scattered possibility:
A snowball
A candy bar
An ice cream cone
For any one patient enough and willing to choose a hundred from out of thousands
For any one patient enough and willing to make whole dreams from fragments

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I post this poem again for the Gill Family.
My life is my bibliography.
You want sources?
Sadness is.
You will never have them.
You will never have them because you did not live
and see  and watch with me in those early days.
What you will have is my memories.
I offer them to you freely.
I only ask you to value what I share.
I paid dearly for every word, every breath of them.
I paid dearly that I might give them to you.

Wrestling With Justice
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In my longing for a just world, I know I am flawed in my desires and choices.

I am flawed, because what I have been seeking, is my own, singular dream.

If I am to dedicate my endeavors to creating a just world, my dreams must step aside, and give way to another, more varied vision.

What is fair, what is kind, even what is good, cannot be born of my soul alone.

Planting many crops together protects the whole of the harvest that will be.

To correct my thinking, feeling, pursuing of justice, I must allow it to advance in my heart to match the truth of it:  Justice is a living, breathing, many celled organism that grows and changes.

What it needs, changes with the world, and with who we are.

It is a thing, about which, it is pointless to speak.

It a thing with which, we can only evolve, step by step, day by day.

Justice must be lived, in order to live.

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I wrote this for Bishop Elizabeth Harrod for her Good Friday sermon a long time ago.
On the night when Judas betrayed God’s son,
God gathered the forest before it was done,
To ask a boon of anyone,
Of the trees who dwelt therein.
Quoth God:
“This next day hence, my son shall die,
Lifted up on a tree so high.
Alone shall he suffer, ‘tween earth and sky,
For all the sins of men.”
Up then spoke the oak so bold,
“If now then cometh the time fortold,
One sad tree it, it was said of old,
Must bear his sacrifice.”
Quoth God:
“’Tis truly said that one of thee
Must accept and become his Calvary tree.
But it must be done full willingly,
By force this will not suffice.”
The oak said, “I would play my part,
But to bear him would break my hoary heart,
Merciful God, I know thou art,
Do not ask this thing of me."
The thorn upspoke himself and said,
“Would that I and my kin were dead.
Will not already I crown his head?
I cannot be his Calvary tree.”
The ash spoke slowly, as one in pain,
“Good God, we all this fate disdain.
To bear is death, will nothing gain.
Must this thing truly be?”
A deep sigh, then,  t’was heard all round
Soft, sad, slow steps, were heard to sound.
The dogwood tree stepped to the ground,
For all the wood to see.
Quoth she:
“Good God, I will this task embrace, if you will grant this boon:
That none of my kindred e’re shall bear a like fate when ‘tis done.
Let no more white blooms crown our heads, as they were wont before.
But spot them all with crimson, like the blood that I shall wear.
And may our limbs so twisted be that none shall find them use.
For spindle, spoon, nor spool, nor spoke, nor cup, nor crib, nor cross?”
Well, God agreed it would be done,
And the dogwood tree, she bore is son.
At such a price, salvation won,
On Calvary’s hill grim.
The blossoms of the dogwood tree,
Crimson spotted now we see.
And, for on Calvary’s hill stood she,
Knotted and gnarled are her limbs.

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I still miss you.

You were there,
back at the beginning.

You were there, welcoming me in.

You were there, encouraging me.

Ever present.

Ever kind.

So good

So gracious.

Then constant became sometimes.
Sometimes became occasionally,
Occasionally became...

You became like a cloud after a storm.



Then you were gone, with the morning mist.

I still miss you.
You were there, back at the beginning.

And then,

you were gone.

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I can’t. I won’t. Not again.
The way is shut and so it must remain.
I will not allow what has passed before to find me again.
It was glorious, and it hurt so much when it was over.
I can’t. I won’t. Not again.
But Beauty is patient.  Love is eternal.  Grace is found no matter where we look.
It is a brutal endeavor to avoid them.
I can’t. I won’t. Not again. and a closed door will never be proof against these three.
Vigilance may fail between one breath and the next.
Too much fruitless effort to refuse the sweet taste of the fruit these bear.
So much easier it is to say “I can. I will. Find me again.”

Work in Progress
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He comes from the far northern forests
Sing praise to the god whose name means "God."
From the bright star who guides our way home,
All hail Tyr, sole binder of the wolf.
His light flows around and about us.
Sing praise...
The sky-roofed hall of thingvellir's field
All hail...
Gave ground to his wisdom and justice.
Sing praise...
The glove raised when open court is held,
All hail...
Shows us his might is undiminished
Sing praise..
The law of the fairground remembers
All hail...

(no subject)
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Breaking open the world to save it,
The hand of justice strikes his gavel,
Passing sentence from the belly of the offender.
Dissolving into the morass of greed and evil,
the monster's last meal becomes hope made manifest for all living.
The single handed feat of the one righteous saves us all.
While the other gods laugh,
the monster's last meal hands the future
into our keeping.

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A dog who has been beaten reacts to a raised voice or an abrupt gesture, no matter  whose it is. 

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