Blessings

We incline ourselves again toward the new-year:
two summers now before the double zeroes
boggle our machines: programmers live in fear
of the new millenium, but the Christian narrows

his eyes and glares at the clouds for a vision
of stallion-mounted Christ, eager for a rift
to suddenly appear and widen, the incision
by flaming swords of angels, the promised gift.

Sedentary, I regard my son
whose pictures dress my office walls, my wife,
whose wine-dark eyes defy comparison,
charmed and calmed in the magic of my life.



1998 (Thank You, GOD)