Original sin etched on souls
this frigid Day of Palms.
Frozen teardrops fused
to bare limbed trees,
burgeoning buds of promise.
On this day and long ago,
he rode into a different town.
The beginning of an end
to make us whole
without our sin for blame.
Why so brutal and a savage death?
His simple words to remember,
there is no privilege to be earned
just passionate love surrendered.
Today is Palm Sunday.
Spring made a short stay of it. A little rain this morning turned into a snowy, wind howling storm.
If you are interested in learning more about this poem, please visit my blog Be Still… and click on Palm Sunday, Frozen.
4th Day of Christmas/December 28th
In winter when cold hovers long with breath so bitter it
burns making its way down the throat like a shot of good
bourbon, and fingers bend resistantly but dutifully to
commands, here I sit on this ice box step the fourth day
of Christmas watching neighbor children skate without
blades where curbbed water did not drain and is now
joined with the sidewalk and level with the neighbor’s
driveway. They push and shove and snort as they tumble,
the smallest bravely taking each spill less padded than the
others. Holy Innocents at play under a grey day in Colorado
where the sun bids an early farewell leaving us to warm our
bones and hearts left out in the chill with unfeigned shenanigans.
And on the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me “four calling birds,” apparently one way tradition gave to children as a means to remember there are four Gospels in the New Testament. Also this day commemorates the Feast of the Holy Innocents, as in the book of Matthew. The Coventry Carol was written for this day.