Oh Christmas crib, oh Christmas crib, / What a privilege you were blessed to have / From you food to animals was given / And now you carry the Bread of Heaven / Oh Christmas crib, oh Christmas crib, / What a privilege you were blessed to have
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Good children dress warmly to watch for the star / The star of Bethlehem, the shepherds’ star / The star of the magi, true-guiding star / And more than all of these, the children’s star
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A deep, slow stream of tones, of modes, of chants / Where time and all eternity flow as one / Through voices and dreamlike echoings / Among the Altars of the earth and sky
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Open your eyes, look around you / What are the things you see? / The world is a great big, scary place / But oh the wonders there will be!
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While cleaning house I found a tinsel star / A tiny tinsel star from long ago / When once upon a time it shone so far / Above a Christmas scene in cotton snow
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On the eve of Advent Jupiter ascends / As is his custom at dusk this time of year / Then Mars and the company of Orion / And all the dutiful stars awake, arise
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Start the day right by giving thanks to the Lord
And decorating with leaves, fruit, and gourds
Preparing the food as you sing
That’s part of what makes a great Thanksgiving
The thermostat that I set for seventy / In the August heat was entirely too warm / And now in November it’s entirely too cold / Why can’t thermostats get the temperature right?
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May we all hear the Angel’s silver voice
In spite of ourselves…
If you have stood your watch throughout the night / To guard a clothesline of national importance / Dug foxholes only to fill them up again / And then patrolled through long days in the heat
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A friend wanted to visit the bones of her people / And give their graves some weed-killer and tending / I was deputed to follow along: / Cemeteries are dangerous places
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Come on everyone, get up and dance / God has given us a wonderful chance / Sing and shout, hip hip hooray! / It’s time to celebrate All Saints Day!
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Autumn is not the end of summer, nor yet / Is autumn the beginning of winter; it is / Itself. Autumn is not between anything / Autumn is the culmination of seasons
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At least I think I read it, did I not? / The book exists and was read, but by whom? / I’m beginning to feel that I’m the trousered ape / Who feels that a slide rule is for scratching one’s back
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There is of course the Road, the Tao, the Way / And traveling it is more difficult with age / Or maybe now it travels more for us / But still the Road, the Tao, the Way leads on
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I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop
awaiting the whisper of dawn to caress the vacant charcoal peaks, asleep.
The waitress greeted us in Saint Petersburg / We drank strong coffee in Alexandria / Our omelets were served in Cambridgeshire / As we gossiped in the narthex of Hagia Sophia
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Let my verses meander, woven around fields / of hallowed kindness, their hummed liturgies
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This morning I drove by my old school / A staff meeting was being committed inside / Perpetrating crimes against intelligence / “HELLO MY NAME IS” / 10,000 years of civilization?
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At the gas station I bought a Chinese rocket / And worried that a lottery might fall from the sky / I tucked away the ticket into my pocket / Or tucked my pocket into my ticket – but why?
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LogoSophia Magazine 