Archive for the ‘spring’ Category


Fox grass bending under gentle, windy strokes,

Snow bank patches left on eastern side of slopes,

Early grass growing on the valley wall beyond,

Horizontal streaks set ablaze by the sun,

Unleafed apple trees file up the hill abreast.

A honey bee in strip’d array is out searching for the rest

A variegated heaven is peeking past the tail’s of mares,

As silhouetted birds claimed the world as theirs. 

– eab, Apr. ’71

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April showers bring May flowers,

For June brides, with July dream towers.


April showers can be seen,

Mother nature’s time to clean.


The April shower, like cauliflower, may

Come fresh – or frozen – as it did yesterday.    

– eab,      Apr. ’66

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The world is turning green,

Spring has come of age.

It can readily be seen,

The world is turning green.

With every Jack and Jean

In “cupid’s” strong cage.

The world is turning green,

Spring has come of age.

– eab,      Apr. ’66

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The grand Lord knew, after the white and the blue,

Of the cold, crisp fortnights of chill,

After stark star lights and short day sights,

And iced over bridges at the bottom of the hill,

After sleet’s solid rain and the snow flakes again,

And the humdrum of life in confinement;

That man needed to sing – he needed spring –

The Lord’s annual, perfection of refinement.    

– eab, 3/29/80

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The sun had heated the wrinkled skin

And precious warmth instilled within,

                With seemingly no outward result.

But inside the movement of sap

Permeated the cells (as roads a map)

                It was the renewed sunshine’s “fault.”



The sap came up from the deepest root

To the farthest, round, diminishing shoot,

                In action and time like each spring.

Running by day, and stopping by night,

Then, again continuing its insistent flight,

                To the tune that the robins sing.



Then at last appeared the bud, deep red,

On the tree that last winter looked so dead;

                But now it stands, awake from its nap.

On upper branches the buds opened wide,

Revealing the tender green hid inside,

                Oh, the wonderful power of the sap.               

  – eab, Apr. ‘66

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Translation Trouble – Act 12.4

AV “And when he had apprehended him, he put him in prison, and delivered him to four quaternions of soldiers to keep him; intending after Easter to bring him forth to the people.”

NKJV  – So when he had arrested him, he put him in prison, and delivered him to four squads soldiers to keep him; intending to bring him out before the people after Passover.

According to the critics, “Easter” is a

mistranslation, because the Greek word

is “pascha.”  It is translated “Passover”

twenty-eight times in the New Testament

and it should (in their opinion) be

translated so here.  


It should NOT be translated “passover” –

Passover had already passed (“days of

unleavened bread” had begun [vs 3]

which means the Passover was over

[Num. 28.16-18; Exo. 12.13-18].)  

The Passover was always the fourteenth

day of the first month – the days of

unleavened bread ran from the

fifteenth through the twenty-first.

Herod could not have been waiting for

the Passover.  Besides, why would a king

like Herod be concerned about a Jewish

feast day?  


“Easter” is from the pagan “Ishtar,”

a goddess the pagans worshipped

– Rome included.  Herod wanted to

wait until this pagan holiday was

over before bringing Peter to the people.

– (partial credit to James Melton)

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Spring sprung,


Summer sunned


Fall fell


Winter won.


Another year complete,


Where seasons meet.                      

– eab  ’66

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She sat silently, with ancient-colored hair,

The only person on the porch there,

And looked away, with that far away look,

That told stories enough to fill a book,



That look remembered an antique day

In childhood’s springtime – month of May,

When she rambled beside, the rambling creek,

Till American Beauty blossomed each cheek.



She also reflected on a tree-house: “home sweet home”

In the orchard filled with McIntosh and Rome,

Where the work of Mom was keenly imitated,

In her branched house, airy and elevated.



Ah, that far away sight can so sharply envision,

A young man’s nervousness at seeking permission,

To walk her from the meetinghouse to her own,

Pop granted the OK, they walked home alone.



The porch was limited but large enough to hold,

In imagination’s realm, the whole church and fold,

As she prayed through there on the night.

Darkness moved away for aye – enter the light.



Then she saw herself pinched in buttons and hooks

(Brides will do anything for a moment’s special looks)

Standing in the vestibule, her heart loud and pounding.

Listening to his footsteps on the hardwood resounding.

                – eab, Jun. ’77

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June is the month to begin

Wedding dreams and acts.

May it never end

This side death’s cold facts.


Marriage is for all of life

What a godly “invention.”

One strong man, one good wife

Can withstand intervention.


“Do you take this man to be?”

Can be promised in high elation.

To be always her man, his lady,

Takes love, work, and determination.

                – eab, 5/2/09

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The grass has taken a turn for the greener,

And the daffodils have turned up in form.

The crocus is its beautiful self,

And forsythias no longer mourn.

The air is warm with that kind of aire,

That promises a bright tomorrow,

While the frogs in the bogs croak up a tune,

They surely didn’t borrow.

Birds on wing, jubilantly sing,

The advent of spring.                         

                – eab, 3/29/80

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