Larger than life am I, thy Lord, and yet
I too must wander in the wilderness,
must wield the crushing weight of man’s distress,
must cleanse the fallen earth in blood and sweat.
Sometimes, life’s colors spin away and set us spinning, too.
The air about us thickens, and we lose our point of view.
Away and away to the black-bottomed sea
sailed her man on a whim and a wave.
“No creature above or below escapes me!”
was the promise his blushing bride gave.
I went to England once.
London, not Manchester.
Rained cold, a bit sideways.
Dark, dreadful, dingy.
Under the weather.
I ran watered streets.
Unbooted, blithely undone.
Up, down, willy nilly.
Slowed through Piccadilly.
Magic.
To love a child is bliss complete,
her feisty ways, his squishy feet,
his face alight, her brown eyes dancing,
a wave goodbye while backward glancing.
Oh, how I love a fledgling year,
wiped free of gloom and haze,
where all the calendar is clear
to mark in sunny days.
When every guest has taken leave,
and gifts are all unwrapped and gone,
I take a little time to grieve
before good memories linger on.
The creatures of the forest
were gathered all around.
The day was Christmas morning.
Soft snow lay on the ground.