On The Dove’s Wing

 

She neatly fits over the others, small

To large or large to small, Matryoshka doll,

The first of all, our Mother, her great call

Long ago in a small home cross the knoll.

Change occurred, her baby grew, broke the thrall

Of the devil’s hold, lies, and life of loll

Of those to be counted in Caesar’s poll,

The Lord in her womb, the Counter of all.

Her spiritual children contained within

Poured forth and multiplied with Him, Christ King,

The right hand of God, through Him and in Him.

With right worship and praise the people sing:

To raise families; to give; and abhor sin;

To bring fruit of good work on the Dove’s wing.

Gary Edward Geraci

Freethinker (Medium Rare)

 

Where has it taken you all these years? 

To answer the question one must admit 

He is hardly original and his fears,

No less slaked, give him away to submit.

On liberating roads full of his peers

Walk trendsetters, people of prose and wit.

With rarified air they breathe, fast to quit

The Law and Order of peace and good cheers.

The rethinker is not a deep thinker.

Believing himself to be free of rules 

He brands his thoughts as from a freethinker.

In the grand scheme of things, he keeps with fools,

Ratified from religion they tinker,

Going down in the end without the Jewels.

Gary Edward Geraci

Many Worlds

 

If we’re not alone

And they’re many worlds above,

Christ’s grace is enough.

Gary Edward Geraci

The Timeless

 

crossed paths with a birder, his small boy,

beyond the boardwalk, built for watching.

what then did you see? birds I enjoy,

though inept with precise bird naming;

less than adept, I come to watch them,

seeking the Timeless for a poem.

the birder started pointing about:

over there is a great blue heron,

here a tern, and this one feeds on trout,

and that one flies with the Saharan

dust. his dad, could speak each precise name,

but this boy of the birder, his fame.

I ought to buy a good birding book

so that I too can be conversant:

I saw a bluish bird in the crook,

marsh marching through water and tall plant,

coming to a standstill, stealth statue,

shooting beak, flashing a fish poked through.

a little blue heron! the boy proclaimed,

the birder nodding in approval,

the bird is born snow white, the boy explained,

to forage with snowy egrets, crucial

to stirring up prey and getting a meal,

until it can no longer conceal.

but wait, once fully grown, colors change,

it becomes aggressive, lives alone.

don’t be a fake and try to look strange,

he cried, you’re more than another’s clone!

look to the sky and with others fly,

you’re wonderfully made by God On High!

Gary Edward Geraci