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
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