Life is calling. I Hear it out there, beautiful And free. Resurgent.
Hairy hands, broadly Built blacksmith, craftsman, barrel Chested, devoted Husband to Laura. Of the Tuatha de Danaan. All was green forest. “Patience,” he counsels. “For
University She inherits, leaky pipes But with potential Unruly pupils Question her authority. She is, Professor.
They would me forfeit My lovely SUV and Drive an old Civic They want to take what I’ve earned because they can’t see My value.
For years have I borneThis sword, to surrender itWould permit the years To accumulate,Would then I die. But now wouldI lay it down at Your
I identify with My wobbling dented metal Water bottle now.