Night Music
pantomime of mist,
fey with drama,
woven into the moon’s clef,
and a cricket chirr below,
fervent of metronome,
basoon of owl,
soft viola of boughs,
breeze-grazed spruce,
prestidigitators of purl,
till dawn’s still trumpet.
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1/28/24 mods
Someone gave a sermon on Sunday, and in that sermon self-disclosued that he was angry at God. Why? For creating humans. But, boldy, he went on, this is something to try to work with or through to seek Good.
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