Behavior

A Prayer Honey-like flowing through artery and vein Sweetening. A river of love awakening the body; like the peel of bells Surely a call from a God that’s real That feeds a hungry spirit and soul sweet nectar of roses eglantine Strength and joy walk hand in hand And a song flows too – repeats and repeats “Surely Goodness and Love Shall follow me all the days of my life And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever*.” ‘ “*”‘  from Psalm 23

I’m mostly not the me you see, For inside, I’m a different me. As different just as one can be, As a butterfly to a white queen bee. The other me is not real at all, But made of the substance of thought. The other me is not bone and blood, But sounds from a songbird’s throat. I dance on the air, play debonaire, My spirit laughs out loud. I speak with God, count peas in a pod And play with a gnome in a cloud. The other me can float on a breeze And talk to the trees or a flower. The other me is not me at all, But a spirit that dreams in a bower. It ebbs …

What joy! What joy! I fill my lungs with pine-pure air Not a care ‘“ I shout and laugh into the wind A child again A bird on its wing I laugh again aloud and sing Never wish to be another me The pines drip the night’™s chill dew So alive With you With you

They were, they were just magic things Those tiny hands I held in mine So warm, so gentle Precious things Their laughs ‘“ they were just silver bells Those eager voices They put a spell on me I’™m sure their laughter just filled the world with sound Two years of Innocence that walked and talked We laughed together It was divine Those precious, tiny hands in mine

Bows the Lily to the rose will you join me in a dance You are so beautiful, your lips so red you must say you will. Why, good sir, I surely shall We’™ll make this day our own though it be our last’  – and the dance ours as long as memory lives And the Dragon-fly turned to the bee Will you share this dance with me? Why, of’  a certain I shall Your wings are so handsome set and glide you where you will Come then, be my Valentine this day No matter what folks may say Tomorrow is so far away!

She weans from her flute notes that fly and dance They speak of things one hardly dares to dream Beauty exquisite – But she plays on quite unaware of the rapture created by her nimble art A three-year-old skips down the street Her hair bobs and flows – a golden wind in her wake The earth behind her quakes in agitated joy – But she just skips – quite unaware of any uproar or of the rapture ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  created in a racing heart

Evil scene Unbelievable dream Two towers Sky reaching high Crashed ‘“ each to a fiery grave A nation paled, unbelieving Half’  a world cried out with pain The other half’  smiled ‘“ hearts rejoiced Not only two towers fell ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  But man to deep depravity

I saw a face ’twas like a winter storm Or a ship that’s wrecked at sea. Twisted, snarled, of uncertain shape I did,’  such a face did I see. Like a snowy bank all trampled down To mush and oozy slush With here and there and old tree-stump Gnarled and butting thro A smile is that, or a crevasse In the snowy, slushy bank Then the tree stump moved and the landscape moved, And my heart was moved to him.

The English lane twists this way, and that Certain is the very uncertainty of where you’re at; They go round and about and back again – One may be driven quite insane! And I’m sure I’ll always wonder so, How the English know just how to go – And, what a pity, where the’  tree is lush, Drowned in the traffic is the song of the thrush. But out and away from the busy sound The peace of England wraps me around – Here I live and breathe again – There’s nothing more lovely than an English lane.

To hit a bot Won’t help’  a lot But makes morose. It burns a pain That comes again – then danger: One seeks consolation that’s sheer fiction Then there is’  a yearning A’  constant burning Perhaps this liquid will put out the fire…? ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  But does it … hell!