Richard St. Clair Poems

When days of winter rain return to snow
And midwinter thaw reverts to ice,
Retreating into sleep I dream of warm
And sunny times when music fills the air
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Knowledge sweeps our mysteries away,
Disproves attractive theories left and right;
It undermines the grounds for firm belief,
Impoverishes the visions and the dreams,
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Recovery through deceit, intimidation,
Peer-group pressure, cracker-barrel values,
Higher-power contemplation rationed
Daily, weekly, served up with a callous
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It’s the second month of winter, and the snow
Is wet and heavy; birds from branch to snowy
Branch seem twitchy — who can blame them?
Though we
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I’ve seen few days that felt sublime like this
Late winter afternoon before the sol-
stice, clarity of cobalt blue, the skies
Now sweetened by a nimbus wash of all-
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I wait impatiently and hope the muse
Will strike and cause my pen to move; across
The page it crawls, but only to confuse
Things, mingling the sublime art with the dross.
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I've come to have a different sort of faith
Devoid of all the dogma preaching fear:
Instead I feel a truer savior near
And not the Christians' god, their holy wraith.
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If e'er I thought myself a seer able
if by some secret crystal ball I knew,
I'd never let it on - I'd deeply rue
to change what I am obviously unable.
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If e'er I thought myself a seer able
if by some secret crystal ball I knew,
I'd never let it on - I'd deeply rue
to change what I am obviously unable.
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I can't see far ahead into the future,
a story in post-history yet to wend,
and even though it may in fire end
it's Buddha's loving nature us to nurture.
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