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WE THANK OUR GOD

We thank our God for this glad Christmas day,
For health and freedom, peace and hope today.
We float our flag on every hill and trail;
All Hail! The red and white and blue, all hail!
Again upon the board a feast is spread,
And God now guards and blesses our good bread.
Our turkey's big and fat and pudding brown,
And we will smile all day and wear no frown.
Once more our bins are filled with corn and wheat,
The bread we break is good, so light and sweet,
Cranberries, pumpkin pies and walnut meats.
We bow to thank our God for these good eats.
This land America! To God give thanks.
Our men are strong and brave in all the ranks.
All Hail America! Our hope and pride.
God bless our home and now with us abide.

WAITING

The waiting minutes
Tick on but never ending
To eternity.
The years do not wait.
So stealthily do they move,
Like deep swift water.

THAT HAPPY COMPANIONSHIP

Remembering friends of the not long ago,
Their laughter a gay bubbling song.
The whispering of secrets, the rapture of show.
The mounting of spirits lit the peak aglow
And lifted the heart up along

The forgetting of wrong in a moment of joy,
Quite erased the hurt and the scar,
With music of kindness and naught to annoy,
And gold of the friendship refusing alloy.
Thus comrades in their happiness are.

I WATCHED MY FLOWERS

I watched my flowers grow and brighten barren places;
They smiled at me the whole day long with brilliant faces
The blues and reds, the white and yellow in morning dews
Drove out the hurt of bitter grief and other bruise,
But now the drought will blight the tender buds and leaves.
And parch the earth as the winds blow on scorching sprees,
'Til July's heat and August sun are duly past,
Yet many things are fine and good at weary last
For if the rain should come, good seed would surely die.
In truth, I should be thankful for a cloudless sky
To ripen seed that sprout and grow in barren places.
And wink at me next year with bright and smiling faces

BEES OF HATRED

The bees of hatred hover
Above and around us.
A good crop will be hatched
To torment and sting us.

THIS AFTERNOON

This afternoon, an angry heart and crude
Consoled himself with an unkindly deed.
Within his soul was hate like garden weed,
That choked the buds and bulbs. In chi