much the green i broken lay, far beyond displeasure – countertops and cherry-limes, towers full of treasure — much the season comes around, songs and gales of laughter – much the green i broken lay, cleaning up the after
She brings young love up to the door, Her family on the other side; A heart as full as hearts can be, And eyes alight with pride — But families don’t always see: They can get locked up in the past, And miss the growing moment’s mien, “Another thing not meant to last –” But … Continue reading "In Joy"
Reverberant anachronism Strains of Tin Pan Alley lyricism Played as through a 1940’s radio (Twixt flashes on the fascist overthrow) Before you were alive or even thought Another world, a distant era caught Between the seasons we might call our lives While one young set of eyes somehow connives To make it to a world … Continue reading "The Seasons We Might Call Our Lives"
We sat reviewing all the presents Left us by Pandora, To music of the winter spheres, And lighting by aurora, And though the holidays were rough, They still were not displeasing Amid the warmth of love and care We felt while we Were freezing
once, a cold that tore like nails: twilight footsteps, frozen mud, then, a string of lights in blue, after cold, a hallway clatter, hands by radiators warming, television distant playing special holidays in music, laughter heard from faraway — vane outside in hard wind spinning, dinner never felt so good, season of a new beginning, … Continue reading "from the threshing floor – 1"
Some beautiful moments seem unremarkable, when described --
It’s smaller things that mean the most. We find that out as time goes by; When in large nothings we’re engrossed, That never seem to satisfy — And then we find a moment true, When what’s important – love – shines through, And we can see, amid it all, That what means most is mostly … Continue reading "Smaller Things"
there’s decoration everywhere, the presents have been wrapped — the silver mine of holidays is well and truly tapped — it’s all spread out in wonder, and with tinsel it’s all capped — you’re safe within it all, so tell me: why do you feel trapped?
Aching steps, An old man’s shuffle, A task done An ancient shop that Few enter: A most lucky few — A magic Created from love, And through pain, A holiday hope That beauty Can make life better