A bucket full of joy be always around you
A sky of protective light to surround you
Let strength be a basket full
And Courage to overcome the tough times and the darkest night
Rainbow hues to brighten your iridescent light
Lullabies of Hope and Peace
And Laughter like the symphonies of a thousand skies
Let dreams be a handful
And may you rise above the clouds!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY

here's to the glass slipper you refused to wear,
the flower you didn't let them braid in your hair.
they called you princess and gave you a crown,
fed you from silver, threaded silk for a gown.

delicate, precious, frail as a daisy,
"you mustn't do that, you should sit like a lady,"
ordained to be queen but holding much bigger dreams,
they'd come running when you broke at your seams.

suitors so fit, deemed worthy by father
princes so charming, speaking of gardens of flowers.
you delayed your answers, you bought time to yourself
to discover who you were, behind expectant smiles.

Today is my 60th birthday.
For milestone birthdays in the past, I used to leave the country from time to time.
At my 30th I went to Israel,
At my 50th Brazil,
And now, I can’t even leave my house.
I could have spent $100m and had myself shot into space
Though with Lily going to college in the fall,
Spending that money on anything else right now wouldn’t be wise.
Adventure is now defined as going to the supermarket.
Living dangerously would be doing that without a mask and gloves.
Though I’ve reached the age when I can now go at 6 AM
The modern equivalent of putting me out on an ice flow
Or an alternate to adult day care.
All for the sake of making my Neanderthal ancestors proud of
My Hunting and gathering skills.
I’d like to say ‘next year in Jerusalem’
But I’d really like to get to tomorrow first.
Ahem.

Birthday Poem to Myself
by Michael R. Burch

LORD, be no longer this Distant Presence,

Star-Afar, Righteous-Anonymous,
but come! Come live among us;

come dwell again,
happy child among men—

men rejoicing to have known you
in the familiar manger’s cool

sweet light scent of unburdened hay.
Teach us again to be light that way,

with a chorus of angelic songs lessoned above.
Be to us again that sweet birth of Love

in the only way men can truly understand.
Do not frown darkening down upon an unrighteous land

planning fierce Retributions we require, and deserve,
but remember the child you were; believe

in the child I was, alike to you in innocence
a little while, all sweetness, and helpless without pretense.

Let us be little children again, magical in your sight.
Grant me this boon! Is it not my birthright—

just to know you, as you truly were, and are?
Come, be my friend. Help me understand and regain Hope’s long-departed star!

Keywords/Tags: Lord, God, birthday, happy child, angelic songs, birth, love, innocence, sweet, gentle, meek, mild, manger, hay, hope, star, Christmas, Bethlehem, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men

You don't know what it's like
to be born under late june's sun,
even though it's dark outside
and the moon is shining so bright
it could claim the lion's throne.
You don't know what it's like
to be a Cancer's child,
to hear the lions roar.