Wormwood

Solomon speaks:

When I consider

life under the sun . . .

As one thing dies

so dies the other.

All that have breath are spirit,

all that is organic decays;

      night befalls them all.

 

How fortunate for those long dead –

more blessed are they than the living.

    But better than both is one

    who has never seen the sun.

Light

Light travels straight.
It doesn’t hesitate
To pierce the field
Of vision; there is
No indecision. There is
Only the reconfigured field
In an eye that doesn’t hesitate,
In an eye that sees straight.

January

Another year . . .

another bleak year. Or

maybe it’s just the week

and the need to retreat

into the warm safety

of the comforter

and hibernate like ground squirrels

till winter is over.

When the snow will yield to rain

and the rain will bow

to the dry summer storms

                           and drought.