(No. 51)The Trot of Time
I tried to publish in the summer of ’oh-nineteen,
Two years after the poetic note had taken me.
The effort was futile and I checked my work again:
The elephant was a fife.
I stayed the course and slowly—heavily—learned a bit more
And tried again to publish—it was the summer of ’oh-twenty-five.
Still a no-go—fleece ignored. “Two more chapters,” I cried,
“Other Seeds and What is Free Will?” Time squeezes my faith.
Days diminish in count. Can even my God make it fit?
Imagine Bible students first announcing in ’nine-fifteen
Kingdom Come last year: ’nine-fourteen.
I wait with faith to see what God will do.
My God is a giant bit smarter than me, weighing a cue
To my brain as he got me prepped for this task in ’oh-two.
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