Sunday Night Obituarys

Five dollars for the collection plate
And five twenty five for a beer-
Eight for a pack of smokes
and whiskey to banish misfortune
  
Never mind the cost. 

Weather Report

Snow falls and the winter woods are quiet.
Song birds flit from branch to barren branch.
Their chirps and alarms break the pregnant silence.

.Chickadee, junco, nuthatch, and house wren.

Harrier.

Wind from the NNW 10-15mph
Eighteen degrees

Fog develops late in the afternoon
while herons stalk the parcel brown marshes.

The streambed
like coffee grounds
Lays black, against the buckskin bank.

Snow falls on the quiet winter woods.
      Chance of precipitation 80%

The winter woods

January's nearly at a close,
Hopefully by now,
King Wencerslas's man has gathered enough wood to see him through.
With any luck we'll all see the spring come.

Soon lambs to be born,
Buds to burst,
and the grass to grow.
 
   This time of year
Farmers sit idle.
"We've nothing wrong with us"
We tell each other over pints.
We're just bored.
Soon spring will come.
Soon we'll have our work to do.
But for now
We wait.

Now
The woods sit idle...
The fields lay fallow,
And rust gathers on the moldboards of our ploughs.

It's no wonder that Christ comes in the middle of winter.
Had he come in July
We would all have been too busy cutting hay to notice.

Once

Once
I had nothing but you in my eyes.
It was then that you filled my eyes.
And I would sit at the edge of the field like a fox.
and amazed I would watch
As bees wicked the spring's nectar from the flowers.

It was then that I would sit amazed.
Amidst more than I could have created alone,
There amidst that witch we had created together
And there amazed
I would give thanks.

Now in winter with the bees I remain.
You and I together
Have ravaged all of the summer's stores.
Now alone I return home
The fox
to a wreath of moldered bones
and an empty larder.

 Hearth and home,
   An honest remedy against the cold and damp.
The house looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting tonight.
Fog and drizzle settle about our abode like an old jacket,
And wood smoke hangs in the branches of the trees like incense,
But without rising...
Everything is enveloped within the spectrum of light.
Tonight,
God is not far from us.
No prayers rise in wisps to a celestial kingdom amongst the stars,
For there are no stars,
Only rain and mist, fog, and woodsmoke.
Christ has transcended the stars,
Put on an old traveler's coat,
And at our fire he sits.
Our prayers need go no further than the breath from our mouth,
No further than our hands can reach,
No further than the light of the fire extends.
Christ comes the traveler and is with us.
He is the comfort given,
And the comfort giving.
Transcending the stars Christ broke mortal bread
And from a perfect cup, he shared the wine.
Now,
With grubby hands, we break the immortal bread
And from a broken cup we share the immortal wine
And our prayers
need go no further than the breath from our mouth-

The belligerent ewe-

    "Get up" I say to the belligerent ewe.
She's a new one to me,
One that I've purchased along with sixty others.
"Get up" I say,
"Your feet can't be that sore!"
She's one of three limpers that have come with the bunch I've just acquired.
"Get up ya dosy bitch!!!"
My temper rises now,
I have things to get done, and my dogs are confused by her unwillingness to move.
I am as frustrated by their frustration as I am of my own.
"Stand up ya fucking cunt!!!!"
I'm beyond compassion now,
beyond reason.
The dogs are nervous,
An unwilling ewe is one thing;
Enough to cause them pause,
An angry "master" is a thing enough to cause them doubt.
Here in this moment
Now!
Here is the place that I have come to fear,
Here is the fury, that I hope to out grow.
Now! Not later!!!
Let anger subside.
Look too your dogs,
Their fear
Their trust
Become now,
Not later,
Now!
Become worthy of their faith, and their trust.
Look!
Now!
Not later, in regret!!!
NOW!!!
Look now and see an old ewe,
her feet sore.
Yes she'd rather burry her head in a hedge
and die there rather than be pushed about!
But have compassion!!!
Her unwillingness defines her.
She is unpleasant,
yes.
But would ever I wish to be cruel?
Who does it serve,
my cruelty?
None.
Only my pride.
Now!!! Now!! Now!
Breath,
Step back,
Smile....
look with compassion on those whom you not only depend on,
but love.
Let your compassion define you...
For your creatures can only be what they are...
love them for their limitations,
thank them,
envy them,
Because they are defined by their nature,
And your are defined by your compassion,
and your ability to conform to their nature...
a nature
that you did not create,
but one that you must enter into...
a structure that you do not define,
but instead defines you......
Make this your living....
Make this your livelihood,
that in molding your self to this nature,
you find your self anew....
Beg forgiveness....
Grow....
Invent yourself daily,
in this way find yourself.
in this way, your anger will subside,
your frustration diminish.
In this way you become what you have not been before.


 

First Fire-

Autumn's chill seeps through the eves of summer.
Blood thickens as frost settles, and the chorus of good king Wenceslas,
From across fall turned fields,
Sounds dim in our ears.
Summer's bounty now laid in wood rick, haystack, and larder,
sit idle,
banked against the winter's cold-
later to be placed on Christmas tables, laid in mangers, and the woodstove-
Tonight at the door Jack Frost has only left his calling card,
if you are wise you know that he will return.
   Greg Brown's album "Dream Cafe" becomes pertinent again with the turning of the leaves, With Christmas, the heralds proclaim the birth of christ, the return of the tomtin, the rail king, and his accomplice the scarecrow.
Tonight-
Summer nearly at it's end
The first fire of the season burns as a testament,
It's warmth a manifestation of a covenant,
a labor and a joy.
It says to us-
That love will sustain us another season,
And that for us-
Love will endure-