A Harrowing Harvest

thresherman's sledge


These tines, thresher’s sledge

gouging flesh, tearing

chaff from stalk in one

smooth strike. Plundering

periphery has

its benefits; as

empty hulls fall to

the earth, seeds awake

to freshly ploughed soil.




After tears, a grin,

after loss, a win;

as hope soars on love’s wing,

after winter, spring.

After darkness, light,

after stumbles, flight;

as battles fought are won,

after rain blooms sun.

If I Could Climb

If I could climb the tallest tree,

escape the ooze of earthen sea,

and reach my heart right up to You,

I’d climb until my lungs were blue,

’til hands and feet were worn to bone,

’til inmost soul was not alone.

That Dang Slang

You can be a stick-in-the-mud, and rain on my parade,

Or pelt me with more lemons as I make my lemonade;

 In trying to hold my horses, you’re wet blanket to my growth,

And pooping on my party while my heart is under oath.

You thought you’d burst my bubble when the dust settled for good;

But your hand was in the cookie jar, so now – knock on wood –

I’ll cool your jets by blooming well, rising above it all,

‘Cause where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and I built a firewall.

You bragged that I’d be pushing daisies, six feet under sod,

But I’ll not slow – watch me pass ‘Go’ – I won’t wait for your nod!

Learning How to Fly

You hold yourself aloft,

You breathe a higher air;

The lessons learned in hard knocks class

Have earned you points to spare.

The troubles of the plebians

Down where the lowly lie

Don’t touch you now, you’re too highbrow,

You’re learning how to fly…