I am from gentle ties that bind; from farmland and baked bread and small, sturdy hands, from goodness and grittiness, grounded in virtue and faith.
I’ll take my snow behind a window, please.
Let it fall freely past the frosty pane,
whilst I sit in my parlor quite at ease,
boots dry, exempt from sidewalk, stairs, and lane.
It was early days, year one.
Two dreamers at the
gate of wedded bliss.
The phone rings.
Innocence answers cheerfully,
vanishes on a sigh.
Lightning shouldn’t strike twice.
Children should be bulletproof.
One faded girl in sepia,
eyes bright and opened wide.
Her life was sweet and simple then,
with nothing much to hide.
Never keep your art too safe and warm;
it isn’t right.
Abandon it to sleet and hail;
strip it in harsh sunlight.
image by Walter Rane on
churchofjesuschrist.org
This do in remembrance of me, He said,
blessing and breaking the Passover bread.
Take now and eat, for my body is pure,
yet sorrow and sin will be mine to endure.
Times Square with all its cheer
cannot revive a year.
And no amount of pique
will slow a passing week.