The Bewitching Hour’s upon us.
Bewitches fly around.
Their broomsticks twitch and shake so much,
They fall upon the ground!
“Ha Ha Ha!” They cackle, mean and loud.
“How can this be so much fun?”
As they gaze away up yonder
And swoop into the sun!
Diligently, the very first Scribes
Sat in their cold, dark rooms,
With only a candle aglow.
Those brown-clad old monks,
Whose lives ebbed away
While documenting for posterity.
Lighting Dark Ages History,
With their valuable, selfless service
For Generations to come.
Put aside by Gutenberg
With his printing press.
But never will they be forgotten,
Their tireless work lingers on.
Where do I get this stuff
That wanders through my head?
Sopping up ideas
Like gravy sopped up by bread!
Thoughts flowing in and out.
Pursued by random words
Flowing all about.
They sort themselves into a pattern
Of wondrous words put together.
Made by 26 little letters,
And not one letter more.
How does it happen?
I can’t begin to know.
Who’s the Sorter,
That always “Tells” me so?
My only job
Is to put these words onto paper.
But sometimes even I,
Get a big surprise,
As my thoughts begin to taper.
Yesterday, October 2, was the Feast of the Guardian Angel.
This, written many years ago, is dedicated to mine, who has done an awesome job of protecting me both night and day!
I hear the Rustle of Angel Wings,
And then I remember Fantastic Things.
I feel their Softness near my ear.
And then I know my Protector is near.
This Vibration heralds a Shaft of Light
Of tremendous Force and oh, oh, so Bright!
I hear the Rustle of Angel Wings
Breathing Truths and my Soul sings!
The kitchen imp who climbed up on cabinets,
And greeted me with a grin.
Who scampered up and down at whim,
Permanent scratches on her chin.
Toothless smiles, and scant hair upon her head.
“Where did you go, and when?” I said.
Where are my “Witchmakers” who tired me so?
Noisy. Now silence. And when did they go?
How I’d like, for a moment,
Just a peek or two.
To glance at that wondrous time.
Watching my babies in their small Universe,
That they eagerly explored from stem to stern.
With me ever remembering,
While seeing them learn.
Somehow, when I was not looking,
They grew far away.
That is what I wanted.
Adulthood for all.
But sometimes…just for a moment,
I wish they were small.