A Prayer

Let no poem or rhyming escape a bard's share Or a truth (that God dreams of) once born deen to dare Feign eclipse by a moon! Both float up like a tune That a meadowlark twitters, in Spring, or in June! Can God's light be absorbed, not reborn, as His warmth, Or rain fall on dry ground that won't germinate both The sweet corn and the weed? Let the farmer concede, If, in fact, he would prosper, that labor's in need! Like Christ raised from the dead, may our Don please die first, Before rising again to pretend he's not cursed By all Angels above! Though he claims to be Love Brags how he feels our pain, each hand sports blood-soaked glove! Long Tooth April 16th in 2020