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Archive for the ‘winter’ Category

GORE has not –

 

                convinced GOD

 

about GLOBAL Warming.

 

                – eab, 2/16/10

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Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of the easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

 

Robert Frost was born this date (3/26/1874) in San Francisco , CA.  He wrote the favorite “The Road Not Taken” and many others poem.  I heard him live on the radio read his poem at John F. Kennedy’s inauguration.

 

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If you have a gripe with winter’s grip,

With to have less snow and frosty dip,

Wish winter to end, end with in a hurry,

Want to have seen the last snow flurry,

Be encouraged.  Winter’s begun to slip.  –eab, 3/5/08 

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Thank you Lord for the Night:

To slow down and sleep,

To the home-fires keep,

With Ewe and “little sheep.”

 

Thank you Lord for the Morn:

To throw-back, make the sheet,

For breakfast to eat,

For shoes for the feet.

 

Thank you Lord for the Noon:

For strength to work till then,

For work of hammer or pen,

For corn gathered in the bin.

 

Thank you Lord for the “Tardes”:

For warmth in winter’s sun,

For “game” from rod and gun,

For labor almost run.

 

Thank you Lord for the Even:

For the ceasing to roam,

For the walk toward home,

For the evening’s gloam.

 

And if there is a time I’ve forgotten,

Please don’t think me “rotten,”

‘Cause I love life and love all your days,

Broken up in hourly way – all Praise!  – eab,  1/19/06

Written in the city of Kingston, in eastern Ontario. 

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Winter is almost synonymous

With a four letter word: Snow.  

It seems that the first cannot be,

Without the other to blow, and blow.

 

Sometimes it comes down

As downy as pillow fluff,

Nearly as large as pennies and dimes

And, OH! such beautiful “stuff.”

 

When it lights on your sleeve,

Or your tall hat or coat,

Its structure marvelous and crystalline,

But, ah, Don’t you stroke,

 

For it will melt soon enough,

From its perfect individual shape,

And another that is now falling

It place, at your attention, will take.

 

Then there is the fine snow,

As fine as ground flour.

Which so neatly covers the ground

In a short time; maybe an hour.

 

Of course, there are deep snows,

And long snows and short.

And snows in valleys and hills,

And on mountainous resorts.

 

But in whatever form or manner it comes,

Each has its purpose to bring.

So use it, enjoy it, and make snow men;

Or go out in the evening a carol to sing.        – eab, ’64 NOV

Written while studying for my BA in Literature, Cincinnati, Ohio

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Tall, empty, and bare,

Are the trees.

That each had their share,

Of green leaves,

To cover skeleton rough,

And supply food enough.

 

Now the trees stand undressed;

Evening’s come.

Time to stop and rest,

Work is done.

Time to lay clothes down,

With a faint rustling sound.

 

And now a new cover’s there,

On each limb;

Laid with mother’s natural care.

Light is dim.

A blanket of snowy fluff,

The night’s brisk cold to bluff. – eab, 11/1966

Penned in Cincinnati, Ohio while pursuing a A B in Literature at God’s Bible School & College

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If God can do so much with a little bit of slush,

Tell me, what can He do with a soul?

The world that was gray and black and brown

(Although on these colors I do not frown)

If God can turn it white, yes whiter than down,

Tell me, what can He do to a soul?

 

Heaven has a way of making things bright,

Greater light by day, and lesser light by night.

Heaven is the source of all purity and light;

Let heaven into your soul.

And see what the Creator, the glorious Emancipator,

Can do for your ever-living soul.  –eab, 11/71

 

                               

Penned in Akron, Ohio while teaching at the Wesleyan Methodist School in Kenwood.

 

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Whether his name was Zacchaes or Zacharias is unknown but in the hotel industry he became known as *Zack.

 

It is not known if he inherited Bethlehem‘s “Best Eastern” from his family,

his wife’s family, or bought it out­right. 

 

But on THAT famous night he was the proprietor of the inn.

 

Zack may have been young or old, the record does not say. We are not informed if he was wealthy or poor – barely meeting his pay­ments on the inn.

 

Was Zack tall or short, skinny or fat? 

No docu­ments exist to acclaim his great learning or lack thereof.

 

Was Zack a gentleman with a handsome profile or did his face reveal low breeding? Were his words kind and friendly or were they harsh? 

 

We’re not told if he was attired in the latest Roman robe or if his appearance was con­servatively Hebrew.  Was he mar­ried?  Had HIS wife ever given birth to a child?  Had HE ever traveled from Bethlehem and needed a room?

 

What was he worth the night he died?  What were his perks?  How much did he earn each week?  Where was he born?  What was his genealogy? 

 

How long did he own the “famous” inn?  Did Zack enjoy plain mutton chops and bread or was he a connoisseur of Mediterranean dining?

 

Did he race camels, collect Hittite pottery or trivialize his time with some other hobby?

Were his days simple or scheduled seg­ments of managerial perfection? 

 

Zack’s hair, was it black, styl­ishly cut or was it a mere shadow of its former glory with an ex­ceedingly wide part?

 

We do not know his race, face, pace, or even his grace.  Was he a faithful worshipper at the local synagogue or had he imbibed “modern thoughts” about God? 

 

Did he ever learn who his AL­MOST Guest was?

 

For a key player in history we know so little about him.

 

HISTORY HAS LEFT BUT ONE FACT, ABOUT ZACK

                 – HE HAD NO ROOM FOR JESUS!

 

Written while pastoring Bible Holiness Chapel, Oelrichs, SD and printed in the Hot Springs Star (newspaper) Dec., 1995

 

* No, we have not discovered some old scroll detailing the inns of the Holy Land, but allow me to use Zack in stead of saying “the innkeeper” each time and it could even make this story more real.

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That night the snow came down.

It covered the branches,

But left the bottom brown.

And piled up on limb and twig

Until they looked,

Twice as big

As real life.

It’s “kind-a” funny you know,

What shapes we see,

After a snow.   –eab, 12/’64

Written while working on my Bachelors (in literature) at God’s Bible School, Cincinnati, OH. 

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He has no snowy evenings,

Wherever he as gone.

Whether up the steeps of light,

Or down the hills of non-dawn.

Unless the Lord of all weather,

The Worker of all that’s best,

Has snow in eternal heaven;

Snow with beauty but no mess,

Snow that falls but never stays,

Or stays but causes no stormy days.   – eab, 12/2001

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