T. Kretz

He felt isolated but knew the ritual, Had witnessed more than four score And been a mortician in most: Other Brothers start singing psalms With intense if temporary concern And then file off to have their dinner, Cerain their brother’s in angelville, While in the dawn of a moribund mind Slow . . . . Continue Reading »

The dogwoods will not bloom this year, We feel it in trunks and limbs, No pink crosses to calm our fear, White X’s for our O’s. Packed endurance of snow too long, Twigs and logs needed for fire; Spring dragged in bereft of song, Fruit and flower in vain desire. They won’t bloom . . . . Continue Reading »

The dogwoods will not bloom this year, We feel it in trunks and limbs, No pink crosses to calm our fear, White X’s for our O’s. Packed endurance of snow too long, Twigs and logs needed for fire; Spring dragged in bereft of song, Fruit and flower in vain desire. They won’t bloom . . . . Continue Reading »