Tuesday, November 11, 2014


      My mind is flying, seeking for a perch—
      Perhaps down there, the steeple of that church,
      Where I might sing a Godly hymn of praise
      While others their grand halleluiahs raise—

      Or there with those birds lined along that wire
      Perhaps to sing an aubade in their choir,
      For every morning at the dawn’s first light
      My Muse (I’ll say) inspires me to write,

      Which seems to me the clearest evidence
      Of something in the universe immense,
      An aperture to something grand beyond,
      Inviting me each morning to respond.

           Should I neglect this sacred daily duty,
           I’d lose my chance to shape a little beauty.