Geri Foster Brewster
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Geri Foster Brewster Poems
Some call it a holy night A miracle for sure. No earthly logic can imagine Such a gift to man.
Passage to Understanding
You spoke a noun to me I spoke a verb to you In the process simple words became complex.
Hands red and swollen fingers like bony twigs joints barely movable yet, movement still exists
Comments about Geri Foster Brewster
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Some call it a holy night
A miracle for sure.
No earthly logic can imagine
Such a gift to man.
Reckon the animals knew
Reckon they bowed around
Reckon the gift they gave
Wonder what the wise men knew
Reckon they humbled themselves
with the animals?
Did they cradle the stable?
Even the star knew,
lumimating above the stable bed
Human logic can't imagine
Such a redemptive gift.