Spring forms changed.
Jasmine limps.
Corn plaques shirred.
Shore is without breeze now.
I didn't grasp my own home!
Public blame current flow.
Pulse spurred over the dome.
Soft breeze fades in midst snow.
They're saying its spring glom!
I'm getting weirder every minute.
Pulse can't yield to my chest and calm down!
At once, the ocean is turbulent.
Lonesome went to sit on barren mound.
I gaze out to the long horizon.
When will the spring ship arrive in port?
Only then will the high tides slow down?
Tonight is a full moon! Oh, my dream
Weakened, returned with shattered vision.
Written: July 01, 2021
Categories:
shirred, analogy, celebration, character, community,
Form: Rhyme
They taught me at Sunday school
that the Spirit's wind; and cool.
On a night cool and windy,
my eyes were wide and flinty.
Through translucent window pane,
jiggled a confused weather vane,
shy which direction to face;
excitement set to race.
Soon the weather vane saw me,
and thrust an arrow at me.
Then heavy patter patter;
the pane began to shatter.
The wind came whistling aloud,
sweet music my ears allowed.
Chilled, I felt the Spirit come:
the room was now wet, I, numb.
As if in a distant dream,
I heard a wren sing, or scream;
a duck quacked, in obvious thrill
of nearby soldiering drill.
My sleepy eyes blinked; I stirred
as the warm morning rays shirred
my thoughts in folds of wonder
at a storm without thunder.
I peeped through the gaping pane;
the sun, calm along its lane,
kept smiling as my mind puzzled,
with my understanding muzzled.
I recalled the Sunday school;
the Spirit could be indeed cool.
Categories:
shirred, faith, fun,
Form: Rhyme