Winter passed more slowly
Years ago
When it always snowed and the
Holidays seemed to linger

With salvation Army bells
Ringing out
At department stores displaying
Magic in their windows

And seeing those special houses
All decked out
With lit up trees, big holly wreathes
And Santa on rooftops sleighing

Then dreaming each night of that
Perfect Gift
Only I might open
Some snowy Christmas morning

I miss those holidays of
Long ago
When it always snowed
And the holidays lingered

But I no longer dream of that
Perfect Gift
Because I wake from winter’s slumber
Next to you Christmas morning

"On Pascal’s proposition that the Laws of Probability
(and Jansenian Theology) make believing in heaven a smart bet"

If one would wager with Pascal,
Sublime scientist
Spiritual Ras-cal;
Then one must choose simply either or,
What lies behind life's final door;

Crafty gamblers hedge their bet,
Not really sure,
Not dead just yet,
They opt for the comfort of safety nets,
Waiting to parlay their final debt;

If the spinning wheel stops on bust
Then nothing’s lost to fateful trust;
But should it land on the predestined slot,
It’s winner take-all, the Big Jackpot

Seasoned gamblers ride sure things,
Seeing in this life
A chance gold ring
So plant their seed in early spring,
To pluck the fruit that summer brings;

No strangers they to **** and vermin,
They hearken to
A more Autumn sermon,
And ceding naught to cold iniquity,
Gain perchance, a winter Serendipity.