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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Sunday, August 17, 2014

Honkers on a fall morn

In the cool brisk morning
scented with the smell of a distant fire
the sun blood red in the sky

they came
stretched across the sky
pointing unfailingly south

arrow like
and noisily honking

the first flock of geese
harbingers of fall
infallible prophets
that things are about to change

life goes on
we futilely seek to hang on
to those last vestiges of youth
to ways old
and familiar

we would sit and wallow in the pastures 
forever

but the sign is in the skies
we are called

and we must go

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