When the Black-necked Rooster Crows

When the black-necked rooster crows,
And a distant whistle blows,
Both wake my dreaming head
While I’m still bundled in my bed.

My early thoughts beyond my sight –
They lifted me toward a light.
Unseen, yet seen, a gloried glance
At glory’s long eternal dance –

A revelation of pure being –
This chosen gift of new birth seeing.

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Apricity Mag

I wasn’t surprised at the contrary tag –
The opposite of monikers –
The blatant murder of monograms –
The measured pretense and perjury
In branding themselves as winter’s warmth
When seeding snowy clouds and sleet
And selling every word as heat.

I’ll be warmer reading Frost,
Not kindling songs so tempest tossed.

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Apricity

I learned another rarish word today –
A word that breaks through every stinging chill
Of gloomy winter frost and shadowed gray –
A word that hides in unlit night until
The morning sun in loving Christ-like pity
Warms soul and body both – APRICITY.

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Pocket’s Hush

I tuck the many glory years inside
My blueblack flannel pocket’s hush,
Right where my fourscored heart provides
A spark of life and tender blush.

I glimpse the fading light around
Each distant glow of every smile
And weep that I had never found
An equal passion all the while.

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