Faith, Folklore, and Friends

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. ~Joyce Kilmer, 1913

Star by Wanda Stricklin Robertson No loud, lighted shopping malls, No shimmering street lights in a row, No service stations with dazzling fluorescents, No string of cars with headlights beaming. No burning bush in the wilderness, No lanterns to light the crooked paths. No brilliance to point the way home. All was darkness, gloom, murkiness. Then, over a barn in Bethlehem, a star appeared, lighting the sky, illuminating the Baby, the shepherds, the angels, and the hearts of mankind. The ones who witnessed the flaming star  wondered what it would mean to them, not knowing why or how, but knowing that nothing would be the same again. The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined. ~Isaiah 9:2

Ferguson The camera grabs their anger, flings it all over the world to eyes and ears waiting to join the shindig, to benefit from long-distance pain. Common sense, courtesy, and human kindness are overtaken by cruelty, by vengeance, by a pulsating need to destroy. Burn it down, burn it now. She remembers the dream, the work, the sweat; the long nights with little rest; she watches them go up in flames to satisfy their animalism. The alphabet crowd screams their fury, lashes out at any entity except their own despair.  The idiot commentator goes to commercial. Across town, small children gather to celebrate a birthday, a festival  of life with a Barney theme and alphabet cupcakes with fluffy icing. Fathers have settled in recliners with beer, letting go of rat-race stress, rejoicing over the four-day weekend, and days of football ahead. Mothers gather around the children, watching, as they lament the days of cooking to celebrate Thanksgiving, fam...