Come Laughing Home at Twilight

Mack Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Come Laughing Home at Twilight

And, O!  Wasn’t he just the Jack the lad,

A’swellin’ down the Water Street as if –

As if he owned the very paving stones!

He was my beautiful boy, and, sure,

The girls they thought so too: his eyes, his walk;

A man of Newfoundland, my small big man,

Just seventeen, but strong and bold and sure.

Where is he now?  Can you tell me?  Can you?

Don’t tell me he was England’s finest, no –

He was my finest, him and his Da,

His Da, who breathed in sorrow, and was lost,

They say, lost in the fog, among the ice.

But no, he too was killed on the first of July

Only it took him months to cast away,

And drift away, far away, in the mist.

Where is he now?  Can you tell me?  Can you?

I need no kings nor no Kaisers, no,

Nor no statues with fine words writ on’em,

Nor no flags nor no Last Post today:

I only want to see my men come home,

Come laughing home at twilight, boots all mucky,

An’ me fussin’ at ‘em for being’ late,

Come laughing home at twilight...

1.   4 July 2012, Wednesday

The Staretz

In middle life the sunflower bends its head,

No longer to the sun as in its youth,

But to the earth in all humility,

Ripening for us all its dreams and works,

And aging happily to eternal dawn.

2.   15 July 2012.  Sunday.  St. Swithin’s Day

The Farmer to Saint Swithin

O good Saint Swithin, please, to you we pray,

On this your high summer rain-making day –

Of your blest kindness send us sweet, soft showers,

The kind that gently fall for hours and hours,

To heal the sunburnt land of thirst and drought

And nourish the corn that sees the winter out;

And if you grant the boon we humbly ask

We’ll work the harder on each rural task:

We’ll ditch and fence and plough, and milk the cow,

Share with the widder-folk, and feed the sow,

Count out some plantful seeds for poor folks’ needs,

And daily tell God’s Mysteries on our beads.

3.   16 July 2012. Monday. Carmel

Pinon

The incense of the mountains drifts along

The arroyos, and into the narrow streets

Of Taos at dawn, the breath, perhaps, of God.

4.   17 July 2012, Tuesday.

Song Dancer Wind Something Woman

(slowly, soothingly)

Like, you know, crystals are so last week’s feeds;

Magic rocks are the latest transcendence,

Drawing from the mountains the soul’s desire

To be one with the one-ness of all things,

Warmed by the desires of the seeking heart,

These rocks, blessed by the, like, ancient peoples

Bring peace and healing to the soul and spirit

(faster)

And, like, I don’t care what people say

About me and what I done in high school

‘cause that ain’t, like, none of their business

And these people that don’t know me judge me

But they’re in darkness I have found the truth

In Transcendental Earth One-Ness as taught

By the One and he likes me anyway.

(parking-lot cat-fight speed)

And I know what you said about my past

You ***** but I know the Oneness of all

And you’ll never get that, you *****, since you’re

All high and mighty and hoyty-toyty

In that fancy cowboy church you think’s

Gon’ bring you happiness but you’re nothing

But a ***** and I know the truth of One…