Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Mysterious World of Azalea
If I were a child, this would be a happy place
A hidden leaf-mould world, all darkly green
Summery green beneath the shaded sun
Between the roots, beneath the leaves, alone
If I were a child, this would be a happy place
A brand-new comic book, some army men
A Roy Rogers cap pistol without any caps
A plastic Tarzan leaping from branch to branch
If I were a child…but alas, I’m not -
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Who Gives a Fig?
Some people say that they don’t a give a fig
Which we would never hear from a happy fig tree -
The one at the bottom of the garden gives its fruit
As a blessing to every passing animal
Squirrels and rabbits, sparrows and mockingbirds
Share in this sugary summer delight
I speed by on my riding lawnmower
And take a fig myself, only to give it away
Some people say that they don’t a give a fig
But I think we need more figs in our lives
(As Amanda Holmes did not exactly say)
Lawrence Hall, HSG
How Many Moons Can You See?
It was a full moon and, shining on all the snow,
it made everything almost as bright as day.
-C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
When the subject of vision came up
(as it must with an ophthalmologist)
I told Dr. Talbot that I saw two moons
When only one of them would be sufficient
But which one?
After a gentle touch of surgery
I now see only one moon, which is nice
But I rather miss that other moon
And wonder if in her exile she misses me too
Where is she?
On whatever planet you happen to live
I don’t think you can have too many moons
Lawrence Hall, HSG
For Bob Newhart of
Happy, Happy Memory
“He will not refuse one who is so blithe to go to Him”
-Saint Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons
With just a telephone, a clipboard, and a stutter
He was a happy band of some of our best friends:
May we with him
At last approach that Inn where all are welcome
The joy he gave us proceeds before him
The angelic choirs soften their hum and throb
Because
That loving Voice we all most long to hear
Will gently say,
“Hi, Bob.”
Lawrence
Hall, HSG
Fire Ants Devouring the Corpses of
Unhatched Wasps
Nature does not, in
the long run, favour life.
-C. S. Lewis, “On
Living in an Atomic Age,” 1948
A formation
of formicidae trekked north-northwest
Across a
vast and lonely sunbeaten expanse
Their imperial
quest a fallen wasps’ nest
Between a
lawn chair and a potted plant
The ants greedily
ripped open the paper shells
Like
Christmas crackers for the goodies inside
The
ghastly drippings of pupae in their jaws
Fragments
of dead wasplings for their demanding queen
A
formation of formicidae trekked east-southeast -
What,
then, is the number of an unnumbered beast?
Lawrence Hall, HSG
We Were Dressers of Sycamores
Amos 7: 12-15
Saint Mark 6: 7-13
From the readings for the 15th week in Ordinary Time
All of us are sent, one place or another
On curious missions little understood
No detailed instructions, no notes, no maps
Take this road and go on until it ends
And greet the folks you meet along the way
Some of them will need your help, your love
Some of them will give you help, their love
And one of them might murder you
All of us are sent, one place or another
We can’t get out of it; we’re needed, brother
Lawrence Hall, HSG
On the Events of
13 July 2024
…that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague th’ inventor. This even-handed justice
Commends th’ ingredience of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.
-Macbeth
I.vii.8-12
