Monday, May 21, 2012

Evening on a Balcony at Woods-Edge

Reading… the light fading…
but a breeze has sprung up;  I cannot bear to go back inside.

And so shall sit, till the text fades,
and each bird returns  to its nest  for the night.

Unto Thee I commend my spirit.
Lord, I stand braced for Thy breeze.

 I wrote that yesterday evening.  And later, in the leaden, deadened waste-hours in the armpit of night, had  apparently  some sort of cardiogenic event. 
When such things actually happen, it is often nothing like the vespertine calm of awaiting quietus, depicted in the poem.  Turns out I couldn't even recite any traditional set-text prayers -- more like just, "God, get me outa this."  You’re sick and shivering and you feel like hell.
Oh well.]


  1. I pretty much live on my screened porch, here as I did in Georgia. This is couple time. Beverage, book, spouse. Sometimes a cigar. And as of yesterday, fireflies.

    1. Praise God, Praise God,
      for the simple things.
      Bless you and bless your marriage.