Winter Visions
By Gordon Jones
Birds are blessed with melodies
Which distinguish them from others
In the winter’s frost
Their feathers serve as covers
Mingling with snowflakes
Etched against the sky
The miracle of a bird in air
Makes me want to try
Landing on icy branches
With impossible precision
I wonder if the birds are real
Or merely wishful visions
Just above white-speckled evergreens
The graceful creatures soar
Stirring my vicarious excitement
Like nothing has before
They continue this vertical path
Too high to survive it seems
Then are lost beyond the clouds
Like forgotten parts of dreams
If I’m ever born again
This form would not suffice
Instead of walking as a man
I’d choose flying like a bird
For all of my next life
Home
By James Giroux
A home is a place you can feel happy and safe
Where you can shut the front door on life’s busy pace
A home is a place our friends can come and stay
Where we can get down on our knees and thank God everyday
A home is a place, full of hope and laughter
Where we can love and build dreams
That will last now and forever after
A home is a place no matter where its at
Where a family can be together
Through the good times and the bad
Wing Tips
By Wayne F. Burke
new wing tip shoes
on the table,
notebook on my lap,
symphony number
whatever by Franz
Haydn on the radio,
crescendo to climax;
my polyester pants
are black like my shoes
wrist watch hi ho
silver.
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