Covid Blues
Some go out
and some stay in.
The only connection
between us are
sun-bleached
sidewalks with
occasional
puddles.
What slender
grasp we had
on culture is
fading as
quickly as
snow in
Van
cou
ver.
Tag Archive: poetry
Stump Throne
A chair with roots.
A monument to what?
No pride can reign
in those who occupy
its rings. So, all would
do well to sit here
quietly for a time.
Just As They Had Been Told
Oh this babe wrapped in swaddling cloths
his last breath as vulnerable as his first!
He took up heaven’s cross to be
wrapped
in linen cloths. So,
we might lay down filthy rags
and be gracefully fitted for
the robes of those made
righteous. Praise him.
Praise him. Praise him!
