We’re superannuated now, no doubt.
Impossible to overlook the facts:
age blotches skin, puts muscle tone to rout,
winnows our hair, and gives us cataracts.
Pat’s doctors rule. No whisky, gin, or wine;
he should not take long flights nor go abroad;
he eats rat-poison pills (hardly benign).
These wizards saved his life, though; I applaud.
But love is not dependent on a state
of youthful vigor, health, or pulchritude.
Beholders judge of beauty. Even late,
love is a matter of one’s temper, mood,
and that imponderable, happy drive,
that draws one to another one, unique.
We’ve made our proper idyll: we’re alive!
”and married, with a dash of modern chic.
Our time’s our pleasure. From the balcony,
we’ve seen the mountains shimmer in the haze
of mid-September sun; a maple tree
gives shade and verdant murmurings of praise.
The season’s shifting slightly; we admire
new currencies of color, which provide
exchange for wit and kindling for love’s fire”
artillery of age, old passion’s pride.
The USCCB Should Reject Federal Funds
On Monday, Pope Francis sent a letter to the bishops of the United States. Criticizing the Trump…
Eliminating DEI from Higher Education
President Trump’s executive order “Ending Illegal Discrimination and Restoring Merit-Based Opportunity” puts colleges and universities on notice. If…
Biden Is the New Francis
Early in 2016, articles began to appear noting similarities between Pope Francis and Donald Trump. Trump’s promise…