You Be the Judge

I hold you. Clad in papered foil
(or is it paper foiled?) peeled
back, you slyly reveal the arc
of your sagging bun as we sit
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In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God…

Wavering candlelight falls
upon a scrap of foolscap
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A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom. ~Robert Frost

Hello?

 
 
 
This is usually the part
where the caller speaks.

 
 
 
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after Wallace Stegner’s “Crossing into Eden”

Five miles in
and 3000 feet up:
a grueling ascent
of a tortured canyon
called Hades—
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Your commitment to Truth will not produce truth,
which demands not resolve, but a ceded heart.

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When a shepherd’s flock seeks another’s fold
    and the pastor loudly brays
about his followers being sheep—no, they are not
    the ones who have lost the way.

The ponderosa stood proud and lissom,
its bole aglow in the evening sun.
Perhaps thirty years it strove blueward
against drought and frost, and time—
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“I like oranges,” she says, again,
midnight hair thrown back,
amber eyes flashing.
I had heard her, the first time.

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