Poem for Jack
Gordon Cheesewright
Thanks for finding,
in a moment of meditation,
"stockbrokers dont throw oranges."
in every moment,
time for a memo, an allusion...
and a donut.
Thanks for finding,
in theological talk and straining toward purpose,
time to kick a trace,
scuffle a truants kick
through heavy summer grass,
teetering in youths walk
along the asphalt detritus
on the shoulder of a busy country road,
time to throw books and theology and follow them
over the fence,
talking all the while good talk
of man and nature and grace
without once using the terms,
time in a somber meeting
and the daring
to glare out, glaze over, and create.
Thanks for finding,
in the sere and cracked leaf
juices and joys other than its death, thoughts that flow and grow back toward midwestern chill,
the edge that pierces
Nebraska air and
life so different from here.
And thanks, Jack, for finding,
in every life
what is beautiful to be praised
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