. . . Containing the Night Thoughts of a Sexagenarian It is this heavenly tale, that the child in one could wish for, that keeps me awake tonight, on the eve of my sixtieth year, fearing death and wishing for grace, not knowing what either is, or even if either is, though the unbreathing stillness of bodies has me fairly convinced of the former, and of the latter I have seen so little as to doubt what I have seen … Read on…
A Tuesday night it is, and all is still; The parson, newly hired, reviews the work Much needed in the church where rodents lurk And drop their filth with sacrilegious skill; Disheartened by neglect, he steels his will Against his knee-jerk instincts with a smirk– Despite his qualms, he knows he cannot shirk The charge for which he’s destined to fulfill. With contemplative gait, he makes his way Towards the altar, past the empty pews Where martyrs on a weeknight … Read on…
Rejoice with me in little things Which lend a richness by their sight, And celebrate the transient In pleasures sweet, howe’er so slight, For there is time still left to you Before the fell eternal night, So use your senses actively While sentience lends them its light, Since beauty in its natal seat Must pass unvalued in its flight Where golden stems of summer wheat Have thriven out of human sight. Yes, beauty lies in knowing eyes, And once they’ve … Read on…