I Would Prefer Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

to see St. Lawrence's fiery tears
from the hills where the Escorial sits, a monumental and historic presence, somewhat frightening to a child, mysteriously looming, reaching for heaven...stones, alive, seeming to breathe, to sing....
...not this year, we will watch them
instead from the old pony pasture,
now a homemade
motocross track.
The road through the mountains to Escorial
is long. It winds, hairpins for many miles.
A favorite stuffed tiger was lost there.
We shape the earth as it shapes us.
Our tears, our blood feed it
as it feeds us.
St. Lawrence was roasted over a fire. At one point he asked to be turned to his other side, saying he was surely well done on the one that had been exposed to the fire...
sainthood for having a sense of humor, my kinda guy...
I will think of him tonight as I watch the meteors, his tears....