Welcome to the Gryphon's Nest!

     The orchard

     I
     Our minds are pollarded
     so that only downward-reaching thoughts
     bear fruit, easily reached and plucked.

     But left alone, unpruned
     we lift our thoughts toward light and warmth
     to grow fruit of especial sweetness.

     II
     "A work of art," one man said
     of an ancient apple tree
     limbs sculpted, clipped, spreading.

     I thought of my grandfather
     whose life was pruned back hard
     constricted, trained, longing.

     III
     Orchards can be beautiful:
     symmetry, precision, harmony,
     bumper crops of fruit.

     Wild cherry and settler's quince,
     free-seeded or planted, now forgotten,
     bloom lovely in the woods.
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     **This work is copyrighted by R. N. Homer Christensen (homer@homerchristensen.com).
	Visit his website at  (homerchristensen.com).

     Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**

    Alien Night

     In the alien night
     We lie afraid,
     Alone together
     In our state of disgrace.
     We cannot face
     The lie together.

     The stars are too cold, too far, too dim,
     Beyond casual comprehension.
     This brassy sun low and brazen,
     Casting shadows harsh and hateful,
     Burning, always burning.

     Gone are the days of gentle rule,
     Still, quiet, silken veil of moonlight,
     Soft embracing sheen of silver,
     Justice quick and hard as steel,
     Shining, always shining.

     Too much light breeds too great confusion.
     Truth is expected, and fairness, and mercy.
     All should be equal, all should be possible,
     All sides considered endlessly, endlessly,
     Arguing, always arguing.

     No more do the gods walk among us.
     Disgust springs, bitter weeds, at the fruit of their labor.
     All gods are become one.
     All men have become one.
     Whining, always whining.
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     **This work is copyrighted by RaynDF (RaynDF@aol.com).
     Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**

     COME, LET ME DRINK

     My mouth thirsts for your mouth.
     My skin thirsts for your skin.
     Let me drink of you.

     In the desert heat of my maleness, you are cool soft rain.
     In the garden that blossoms in my breast, you are a dancing fountain.
     In the echoing forest of my mind, you are a sweet clear stream.
     Let me drink of you.

     Come, let me quench my thirst at the fountain of your laughter.
     Come, let me bathe in the warm clean flow of your spirit.
     Come, let me drown and be reborn in the river of your body.
     Come.
     Let us seek God's Ocean together.
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     **This work is copyrighted by Bert Clanton (bert@sonic.net).
     Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**