It’s been three decades.
Longer with than without…
and I see the reckless words of callow youth–

dried husks, dead and cast away.

How small! How single! How hard!
Thank our Captain and our Shepherd

Faithful Husbandman
Vinedresser and Sower

Patience poked deep into the dirt of time
to plant my proud poems and bury
my plaintive pleas deep.

To die. To leave the dirt behind,

The husks split by Night’s trial and Death’s
Danse Macabré.
And the love emerges still from stalks
Staked and made strong by time.

Eloquence wanes as love remains waxing
eloquent in gesture and deed and glance…
…I love this Journey-Dance.

And I love you Jane,
God’s Gracious Glance.