Joyful angels around the Infant King

Ode to God's only Son in chorus sing

Yonder He lies; one day peace He will bring



To a weary world filled with scattered sheep

On journeys from valleys to mountains steep



Teetering with clumsy foot on their way

Hovering for safety, sadly they bray

Each one meanders being devil's  prey



We can rejoice, the Son of God appears

Ordained by God, we can't believe our ears

Resounding exultation amid cheers

Loudly praising, joy can't hold back the tears

Declaring the Babe's music of the spheres.

A bone-weary hollow stomp

with gunmetal lips

tasting of merlot

were prelude

to an apoplectic attack,

a systemic shock when she left

unannounced in the middle

of the night leaving his wallet empty.

Goodbye becomes an uneasy token of grief

when love fades then walks out the door;

it's very sad to realize love's been too brief,

working at it has become a chore,

it is not worth it anymore.



The attic holds a memory of severe pain

shelved remains an engagement ring;

I can't fathom how a love for me you did feign

that I was merely a Spring fling,

I know I cannot trust you again

you made my tears fall like rain.



Held faceless against spare sunlight graying shadow

being invisible to you,

I had foolishly basked in your smile and although

a foreboding came into view ...

apologies cannot make love grow,

sacrifices ... I will forego.



Past the little details that tend to resurface

I try to go about my day;

my heart breaks whenever I think of our first kiss

waterwork woes are on display,

that is when our together I miss,

O, Lord!  Why do I reminisce?

Meet me at the bridge come next Spring

after snows with frigid air pass,

birds on a wing begin to sing,

when her season brings fresh green grass.



With vapored breath we bid adieu

to Winter's belting bitter bite;

although I loved being with you

kissing you on cold, freezing nights



it's time for us to say goodbye

only until cycles will bring ...

so ... til weeks and months multiply

meet me at the bridge come next Spring.

Dawn peeks over rippling navy lake

where gaggles of geese honk

flying in zaging vee form



I can hear chirps of robins 'n

blue jays outside my bedroom

window visualizing their winged flight



deer are already hiding invisibly,

while skittering squirrels, bushy tailed,

pack their jaws with acorns



brisk winds whoosh coaxing leafless

trees to branch dance, shimmy 'n shake

while meadow grasses do the limbo