Old Age
A POEM
Accept the wind —
Insanity would fight it now.
It is no angel to be wrestled with.
Accept the wind —
Exalting in the ripping off of color
from the trees.
It deals in stripping and revealing
nakedness.
Accept the wind —
The time has come for seeing
Trunk, and limb, and twig.
Accept it with great joy
Knowing that God appointed sap
To rise again.
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Poetry was once understood to be an anthropological episteme, a way of knowing, if only through a glass darkly.
To Angela, Who Is Afraid of Clowns
Clowns are grandfathers
painted with strokes of laughter
who kiss lollipops
but never lick them.
…