No Gifts

Not Ebenezer Scrooge
not Clark Griswold
not the Grinch
nor Buddy the Elf
certainly not a Wise Man
maybe an old drummer guy
if I played drums
with no gifts to bring
except to sing
in excelsis deo
hosannah
hallelujah

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In Spite Of

Hard to find things to celebrate
easy to find things to fear
hard to find things to laugh at
until I look in the mirror
but there’s a star in the east
making one thing clear
in spite of all the madness
the season of Hope is here

Curiously Thankful

In the turmoil between memory
and the motion around me
I learned what I lost
it was everything.
But I can run on
the fumes indefinitely
and after so many years
of such luck beyond deserving
it seems almost greedy
and ungrateful to ask for more.
but in this swirling confusion
it is only human
to long for the anchor
the shelter from the storm
the beacon in the darkness
still curiously thankful
that I know what I’m missing

Founding

Back when the Fathers were busy founding
a trip to the doctor could easily kill you
if you lived you could pay your bill
with a chicken or a bag of apples
if universal healthcare had been a concept
then it might have seemed more
of a punishment than a right
but things have changed
I don’t know what it means

Back when the Founders were fathering
one gun had one bullet, then a slow reload
requiring a large group of like minded people
to conduct a decent massacre, though not unheard of
and while working to make the streets safe
for decent women and children
a rifle over every hearth
did not seem as unreasonable
as an arsenal in every closet
but things have changed
and I don’t know what it means

Back when the Fathers were founding
there were few crowded theaters
in which to shout “Fire!”
tree stumps and soap boxes
were poor platforms and it took
determined liars to spread their bile
no push of a button to circle the globe
common sense was perhaps more common
and the ones who could read knew better
than to believe everything they did
but things have changed
and I don’t know what it means

The Fathers who founded would be
shocked to see the wrongs become
right and the rights become wrong
half impressed and half depressed
by the astonishing changes
wrought by two centuries and change
but the faith they had in their posterity
might still bear the desired fruits
each generation must decide its own course
that much hasn’t changed
if you know what I mean

When Lovers

The girl with the bright blue hair
kissed the guy with the Mohawk
then they leaned against the car
and had a little talk
he got in the driver’s seat
she got in the passenger side
she must have missed him
she kissed him again
and they went for a ride

When lovers act like lovers
it does my old heart good
even if they don’t quite look
the way I think they should
who am I to criticize
what two grown folks decide
when lovers act like lovers
I am firmly on their side

I saw these two men hugging
I’ll admit it freaked me out
but the look that they exchanged
erased all my doubts
I remember how it feels
to hold a precious hand
so I went about my business
it’s not my job to understand

She had hair as white as snow
his was gone but once was brown
they had to lean on each other
just to totter around
a little tenderness was all
the passion they required
I was reassured to learn
that Love does not expire

When lovers act like lovers
it does my old heart good
even if they don’t quite look
the way I think they should
who am I to criticize
what two grown folks decide
when lovers act like lovers
I am firmly on their side

This Union

The fabric was torn in 2013, but you can’t unplay a symphony. The echoes have a mind of their own.

At one time, perhaps,
this union
was the casually tentative alliance
of two vaguely kindred spirits,
Lewis & Clark of the soul
in search of Emotional Passages.
Perhaps two dancers engaged in defining
the parameters of a certain joy, bodies
working in pleasantly passionate harmony
with the understanding that the contract
would last as long as the music.

Surprise.
We began to generate our own music,
and threads of experience became this
tightly woven tapestry of a rich history which
continues to blossom growingly each day, our
simple melody evolving into the symphony of
this Union.