"You Want Cheese, Chesterton?"

Nothing’s quite better
Than pie a la cheddar
Or roast beef and Swiss
Served by a part-time miss

Now that I consider
(Your essay—what a winner!)
I realize that the cheese
Was not really what you mean

Outward march of urban sprawl
Made cookie cutters of us all
Persons under a steeple
Are now just lumped into “people”

Finely wrapped but flavorless bits
Just as fact’ry cheeses gave you fits
God made each—unique in His way
Trends and molds have taken that away

The countryside, where Creation peeks,
Glimpses of a kaleidoscope: souls who speak
Gifts, talents individualized
Sprinkling spice on our sacred human lives

Pris’ners to our own fast-minted design
Why bother thinking? Can I not just resign?
But God sent Jesus and made us all free!
(Hungry interruption: have you any brie?)

"C in History"

Creation
Choice
Curse
Corruption
Cataclysm
Captivity
Cross
Christ
Church
Consummation

"One Foot In Front Of The Other"

Cold air slaps you awake
Faces smile and photos take
Flurry of activity as you wait

A song is sung by all who’re there
Several now, with uncovered hair
Hand over heart, if you dare

Summoned to gather at the line
Arranged by best guessed time
Breaths held as tension climbs

A mighty blast the starter gave
Bobbing heads in a wave
So it begins for the brave

First of many corners rounding
Voices no longer loudly sounding
Hearts and feet, in rhythm pounding

Seems forever that you’ve done
In reality, only just begun
Proof is passing mile number one

Easily, steadily borne along
With the crushing, pulsing throng
Soon enough, the line stretched long

The sun shining down on my face
Concerned only with finishing this race
Steadily, steadily goes the pace

Take a break to tie your shoe
Halfway there and now some goo
Tiger’s eye on a silver flue

Many on the road, traveling east
Not all are runners: traffic’s increased
Only those who partake enjoy the feast

Pain increases with each step
Could have stayed warm and slept
Pushed through, joy from the depth

Round the bend, refuse to whine
Running hard across the line
Race is done and I am fine

Crowd of witnesses strain to see
A wiser One paid the fee
Life—it’s not about me

"Redux"

Who is he with trouble?
Who is he with deep grief?
Who is he with quarreling wife and children?
Who is he who has a file full of customer reports?
Who is he who wakes with unexplained bruises?
Whose eyes are bloodshot?

Those who sit and stare at an empty glass,
Who long for the next cocktail

Gaze not at the crimson bitterness,
Nor the way the light dances on it
Don’t even consider how
It pours, again and again, from the bottle

Before the night is done,
You’ll be hypnotized
And hugging a toilet!

You’ll wander through hallucinations
You’ll say things to later regret
(perhaps even heresies and blasphemies)
You’ll want to sleep with the fishes
Or swing from chandeliers,
Shouting at the top of your lungs,

"I’m beaten and kicked,
but I’m not hurt!
Ha ha! Bring it on!
Barkeep, a round for all my friends!"

Then you’ll awake to find yourself alone,
Wondering how you’ll pay for tomorrow’s six-pack

"Kickball"

Kids of all ages
(Including
Classroom teachers)
Kick
Bouncing ball, blasting
At
Large league of little legends
Laughter