Season In ...



Sensing the reasoning 

Of all God's leavening

We come to our senses

Without making defenses



For learning is on-going

Sharpening our mind-stowing

Of outrageous simplifications

(Perceptions, personifications)

  

And we wake up our minds ...

Open doors t'other kinds ...

Of thought - quite narrowly conceived

Colored by angles and pet peeves



And thrust open the biggest door

The one which we tend to abhor

For our lives are spent within frames

Thoughts carved, without any names ...



And, every once in a short while

We stumble onto another pile ...

Of food, for all our thought cells ...

Season'd ... without any sell ~



- Tristram



© Christopher W. Thomas

3pm Monday, Jan. 8th, 2000