O Muse, grant me the power divine, of heaven’s soul to speak.
To convey in words what makes the oceans stir, mountains move and spheres collide.
No mere task for mortals to accomplice, with earthly fragility,
Again, shape O Muse the flesh of this tongue, be now still to wag with divinity.

From an ancient time and a distant land, yet in our common repose.
The face of beauty was beheld by one, she who entangled cities and launched ships.
Anno Domini 1997, witness the dethronement of this potentate prescribed eternal.​

For so long,
you have done,
so much,
for so little.


It is the least
that I must do
to say somehing more
than thank-you.

Roaming, roving, drifting,
searching for the place to be.
That spot that offers all,
shade, height and gaiety.

Stretching, relaxing, lounging,
always beneath its boughs.
Provide each and every,
a dimmed glimmer of hue.

Reaching, pulling, climbing,
amid its mighty branches.
Gives one a chance to see,
so much more because of thee.

Dancing, playing, singing,
the time passing cherrished.
Amongest thy lofty spread,
each finds gala merriment.

When I was done looking,
that place I sought to be.
It’s aside people like you,
a friend who is a tree.

An event of horror so horrible,
Germed in Gomorra too deplorable,
It slouched among the depths till potable,
lixuor supped as unholy peccable.

Wrought by prophet, in station brought low;
Pauline's ride aped, to attempt an overthrow';
Masked by reform, ill sought a nuncio;
Spun Mass around, towards a seraglio.