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©1999
Chuck Albertson, Bellingham
Templates
of grace, the World erase.
Shocks of corn in windblown scorn
I wish Halloween would, never obscene,
dress all the children to greet the dawn.
A
new dawn rises, on All Saint’s Day clean,
The morning after our All Hallows Eve.
Those who died after life without slumber,
awake to bright daydreams
of Heavenly
plunder.
Press
on the living who take up the slack,
of elders now fallen from ranks sharp
with tack.
Well bridled the horses who scurry away,
the spirits of broken-winged birds of prey.
The Eagles are strong,
the warfare long.
I would not ever sing grist to their song.
But the brown dove gathers, to teach
me a lesson.
Wellness is a gift, I’ve made an obsession.
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