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Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                            Chekhov’s Rifle

In Act I there was a rifle on the wall
A Mosin-Nagant of vintage make
The weapon was ready and on call
If someone in Act II made a mistake

In Act II some surly men appeared at the door
They entered, each with a menacing sneer
Scuffing their grubby boots across the floor
And Chekhov asked of them, “What do you want here?”

In Act III there was no rifle on the wall
Chekhov had sold it to pay the rent – that’s all
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                      Rai­n Puddles and Children

                                             For Nora and Theo

Our boat-captain neighbor is home from the sea 1
(Okay, the Gulf of Mexico)
And this morning took his children for a walk
Along our road, and stopped to visit with me -
Nora watches and listens, but Theo loves to talk

Talktalktalktalktalktalktalktalktalktalktalktalk

He wildly rushes his sentences and words
Words piled in heaps - he has so much to say!
But Nora in silence celebrates flowers and birds
She sees whole worlds in puddles along the way

And into them Theo LEAPS!

We know this world is in a bit of a muddle
But when children splash through a rain-filled puddle

They make everything better




1 Cf. “Requiem,” Robert Louis Stevenson. The context is entirely different.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  Gardening with Happy Bees

                                      …for so work the honey-bees,
                      Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
                       The act of order to a peopled kingdom

                                     -Henry V, I.ii.87-89

A bumblebee hovers in front of my face
No hostility; it’s simply greeting me
As I putter from *** to place to *** again
Messing contentedly with seedlings and soil

But honeybees race around me in formation
No hostility; they’re ignoring me
They speed from water to flower to hive and back –
After all, every flower needs a little love (wink)

Blessed spring hovers softly everywhere
As bee-sy bees sing their sweetest airs
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                         Sometimes There are no Smaller Words


                                “It was all sea and islands now”

                       -C. S. Lewis on the death of his mother


In the end there was peace
The oxygen bubbled beyond him now
Past his greying skin and out into room

His earliest memory was set in his father’s store
Playing in front while young men dressed much alike
Carried supplies out to a waiting truck
They tousled his hair and said words he didn’t understand
Someone told him they were German prisoners of war
And what they said was, “what a nice little boy”

And his last memory – I hope it was of Father Michael
With an Orthodox blessing for the journey to come
Or Max and Dawn and Lori, for the journey that was

Once upon a time, and many times
We smoked our pipes on summer lawns
Or with our feet to a winter fire
And spoke of Lewis, Tolkien, and Milton

Whenever I lent him a book he returned it to me
With minuscule notes
Sometimes of great wisdom
Sometimes of wonderful wit

And I have the books and the notes

Whenever he spoke of a topic in Orthodoxy
In exasperation I asked him to use smaller words
Because I barely graduated from high school
And once he said, “Sometimes there are no smaller words”

The words keep getting smaller and smaller
But in the end there is peace


“Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and make perpetual Light to shine upon him.”
On the death of a friend
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              The InterGossip is a Content Cop

                    Number Six: I have a choice?
                    Number Two: Of course. You can do as you want.
                    Number Six: As long as it's what you want.
                    Number Two: As long as it is what the majority wants.

                                        -The Prisoner

The InterGossip is a content cop holding up her hand
Half in my face, half-way to a Fascist salute
Forbidding me to read or study any further
Without pledging loyalty to a community

The InterGossip is a content cop holding up her hand

If I want to keep reading, I must subscribe
The cost is access to my information…information…information
“You have read five of five free stories this month”
Which is their way of saying, “Your papers, comrade”

The InterGossip is a content cop holding up her hand

And if sometimes my words violate the standards
Of communities I never joined – white space

The InterGossip is a content cop holding up her hand
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                   There’s Nothing Old to Write About the Moon

The newest moon – it blessed us tonight
A sharp bright crescent within a rim-glowing orb
Following the sun’s afterglow deep into the west
Ornamented with a frosting of stars
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                       Deep Woods ON

The label on the bug repellent ought to say
“Welcome to our Human Buffet Today!”
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