The Exodus of Israel

The Exodus of Israel

 The cock-crow hour greets the departed one.

She, with vista lids of a world so welcoming, so free,

avidly hastened into the far-flung, uncertain desert sun.

Nailed to that well-worn, well-known porch that once had sheltered her;

doted on her aching feet, her father watched on.

His precious gift, His soigné, was a woman now and had left His arms behind.

All He possessed were those accreted frames of a wide-smiling girl,

a budding, maturing rose he once had tended to and adored.

With a tear He thought of the tales he’d tell of that wide-smiling,

now wide-world gazing, girl

and drastically groped the hope that she would return

to the home where she was sown.

His precious gift, His blessed soigné,

to whom His love would be infinitely shown.

Prom night

Prom night

Tender is this night

where high school’s on the mind’s back-burner

and memories of youth rush back like blows

to the head.

One night.

Of last chances to create legacies

on the hardwood dance floor

between the dandy suits, flowing dresses,

jiving bodies and hidden hipflasks

under the drunken, glittered disco ball

and shocking neon lights.


‘‘Age is graceful dying.’’


We all fear the changing years.

When wrinkles make facial fault lines

and sudden pains become our greatest fears

with dreams we weren’t able to find.

So we so filled with deep-seated dread

fly away to yesterday

from the realm of walking dead

to where we hope our bodies will stay,

its  energy, its life to us will be fed

and the cock’s final crow will be kept at bay.

Yet, searching for exhausted youth

 will bear not joyous

but the tragic truth

that age be all-consuming and all-embracing

Canto Gregoriano

Canto Gregoriano




from the praises of Heaven,



lips of man.