And Let A Great Wind Blow
Some day when the great God wearies
Of all our trifling with eternity,
Our disorder of gases and fumes,
Uncontrolled exploding atoms
That annoy his summer siesta, his autumn peace,
He will lean back and let a great wind blow
Across our planet, finger-marked, bomb-packed,
A great wind and a nameless cleansing rain
Until green order rules the earth again.
Time Of Promise
In spring the heart ignores old boundaries
And soars with lark and linnet to the sky
Transformed by April songbird ecstasies
And poignant lure of passing wild geese cry.
Hope weaves a green spell on each laurelled hill
And hollow where frail dark wood violets grow.
On wind-kissed orchard slope pale petals spill
A promise that the deer and squirrels know.
April awakens dreams with every wind
That blows warm sunshine into shadowed places,
And hearts so bleakly winter-disciplined,
Remember whimsical, endearing graces.
The fallow time is past; now spirits grope
Through rain and tears to April's breathless hope.