 These mountains were beautiful once,
and will be again. All things in their proper time. I mourn the fire, but I am thankful for the rain.
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 Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, It turns out we sent them to the wrong place, Let them come with me. We'll find ourselves a new passage That leads to the promised land And we'll go there together, Strangers hand in hand.  As I watched the sun set as we went across the water, gliding,
I remembered the time we rode in the back of daddy's truck, Our hair pushed back in the wind more perfect than even momma could do in her beauty shop, even with all of her skill and years of training with a blow dryer and a brush, the perfection of wind running through hair that no human could achieve, a perfection wrought by the hand of the divine, nature and human form meeting face to face and we couldn't look it straight in the eye. We had to squint so our eyes would not dry out, the air robbing us of our tears. Involuntarily We wept With joy. My mind went back as we went across the water. As I watched the children I remembered And I realized That I didn't know then I would never feel that free Again.  The daffodils
Like whippoorwills Sing out to you Beneath windowsills. Come join us As we welcome spring. Come join us With the joy you bring. You, Yes you, And only you, You are the yellow To my blue. The sun against My morning sky, My beacon As I'm sailing by, On stormy seas, Against brutal clouds, When dead leaves hide You cry out loud: Come join us, Let's be born again! Come join us, We can all be friends! We wish the seasons To stand still We wish for you Our daffodil.  At first I will come to you
Only at night Slip through your window And leave when it's light. Then you will find me Awake in the day, Soon I'll consume Everything in my way. Finally I'll leave you Quiet as I came. You'll question my motives We both will be changed. |
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June 2023
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