Thrust in the sickle, the land is rich,
and the fruit thereof is sweet.
The labor of love has been performed;
the cycle is complete.
“Italian wedding soup,” she said.
It sounded such a treat.
I’d married her one year ago;
my bliss was quite complete.
time stops for no one
but if i
sit down and freeze
blink neither eye
What lovelier way to unwind can be found
than to visit a realm where ideas abound?
My path, at times, is overgrown;
storms brew beneath my swirling sky.
The sweetgrass curls and turns to brush,
scrapes tender flesh as I pass by.
When you are stuck in second gear
and can’t seem to get by
the creeping trucks and pokey schmucks
before your weary eye;
If every star in heaven’s sky surrendered to the night,
perhaps the moon would lose heart and concede the steady light
that anchors every one of us until the sun’s return.
Our universe has much to teach us; will we watch and learn?
How bright the sky, how still the night
when all the world received His light.