Categories
Creativity

Transformation

The vetiver potion to conceal my self and sins

is no match for the honeysuckle so full in bloom

here on this summer Sunday sweet spot

before the masses, quiet enough to hear bees hum

while I, covered with the midnight meditations of spiders,

watch as starlings rise from the meadow in first flight

and small kits feast on clover, silent and unsullied

never minding the interloper come so early to the woods

left wondering what spell was cast for Eden

Categories
Creativity

Sunday Sabbath

The deer in the field
were startled
by the first shot,
were you?
You in your pews
a thousand feet away
there
praying for sins
praying for life
while
gun club gunshots
rang in the holy morning,
frightened the deer

and the bobolink.

Or you, while
the tactical defense cleric
in police surplice
preached a safety sermon
to the congregation
there
from the sacred pulpit:
carry your faith
defend from evil
shoot to kill
all lives matter…

amen.