LANGUAGE OF THE SEASON

WHAT WOULD'VE HAPPENED

TO ME, IF I DIDN'T FIND THIS MUSIC!

Soon , the voices sing, soon,

opening the present. Swing by

and touch me with hope

coming on the carry of the song.

Vacate the wait. Re-up

as soldiers say, smiling.

Blushed and buked in gardens

where no-body walks.

You won't find no sycamore

unless you find water first.

Lay me aside by that water,

tinder-sparked and burning.

Jim Bodeen

9 December 2017