Quiet, sunny, early
morning.
A refreshing night's
rest, a peaceful heart.
Hot coffee and a look
out the window.
Ah, how kind is this
new day.
I do not wish for
power or glory in
this world.
Just give me such
a morning as this
every day.
Everything King Midas
touched turned to
gold. But, oh, he
could never match
the golden sun
streaming through
my window.
POEM FOR THE NEW YEAR
The days are short,
the year about to
end--but life goes
on.
The golden light of
heaven, the winds, the
clouds, the sea and all
the earth and its crea-
tures
continue--but
the year ends.
All the forms of men
are fixed and end--
yet the cycles of life
continue whether human
views prevail or not.
Without the laws of
men, the laws of na-
ture
continue; the
end of the old year,
and the first day of
the new year means
nothing to the
frozen lake
or the leafless tree:
Spring will return
without the aid of
man.
There is among the
stars and planets and
the ten-thousand things
of the earth, a great
order, where the order
of men does not apply.
This, then, is the
blessing we live with:
That eventually the
impositions of civilization's
arrogant order upon nature
will pass away, pass away,
while nature continues--
oblivious that men ever
existed or not.
{NOTE BY R. Haig: Fragmented text below retrieved from
original MS Word document}
ity
was a humbug, a threadbare coat better left in the trash heap. I was in a deep melancholy.
2/19/96 12/16/95ou
sound like a philosopher."
"But I'm
not. I'm a woman in love with a fine man
and I want him--not more of him."
Her reasoning
was more than a match for mine. Anna
gazed at me with her soft, loving eyes.
The fire had burned low and the soft glow of the coals dimly lit up her
face, making it like the light and dark side