Read about Marc Harshman here
.THESE for Jerry
These are not lucky charms. Theseare bits of bone and sinew. Homefrom the war, he pressed them into my hand.I said, "thanks," and he walked away. Faraway he had been. Steep valleys,hot mountains of war, highs tolen when the moon was bright
and the enemy shy. "See,"he once said on leave, "therewon't be much left of me." I know
that now, holding his hand in mine,charms are not enough. Prayer ames names. We try them. One
after another. Repeat after each, "Lord,have mercy, Lord, Lord . . . ."
Names have memories. I wear his now.Pray them as if he hears. (Forthcoming in the "Anglican Theological Review")
•••"Only One" There may be a million starsBut there is only one sky. There may be fifty thousand beesBut there is only one hive. There may be five hundred seedsBut there is only one pumpkin. [Then the book runs through smaller numbers, 12 to the end, the last 2 stanzas being as follows:] There may be two ropesBut there is only one swing. But the best thing of allIs that there is only one meAnd there is only one you. The opening lines of "Only One" published by Cobblestone/Dutton [division of Penguin USA] in 1993, illustrated by Barbara Garrison.
•••CHECKING THE SPRING Up from the house, west, a few hundred feet,where the ridge hat of poplar, maple, weet gum and red haw fills with a dry wind,
we force a clutch of bramble,wild rose and blackberry,and through them slipdown the hard bankof pale grassesto the green stonesand standby the thin, sure soundof water, still there, August,and running. First appeared in "Turning Out the Stones, a chapbook from State Street Press, NY, 1983