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Posts Tagged ‘Blount County’

A cedar against a pink-lavender sky,

In the space between the neighboring oaks,

The silhouetted bird flies by,

The crickets sing an evening song,

A lowly cow lows, the day is closed,

While along the horizon

The pink fades and goes.

Sights and sounds the heart and mind

Senses but lets them slip.

A day is closing as others closed,

Slowly slithering beyond our grip,

The pink has departed;

Now the trees stand dark and still,

Black trees on a gray-blue sky,

As tree frogs “che che” at will.  [1]

          – eab, 10/75          

 

 


[1] First fall in Friendsville, Tennessee (Blount County)

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Lord, You’ll have to defeat the devil. 

We don’t have the strength.

We can’t do it alone, we can’t do it at length.

Lord, You’ll have to defeat the enemy,

Time and time again,

But there’s coming a day,

O glorious day,

When the battle will end.

 

There’s a the battle will end,

For the blood-washed of all ages,

The simple and the sages,

The kings and their pages.

There’s a final victory coming,

When the battle will be won.

Trials will end, Christ will descend,

The Father’s Redeeming Son.  – eab, 3/78

Written in Friendsville, Blount County, Tennessee. 

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He was announced to Mary

His mother for earthly mold.

She knew He’d be special,

For she had been foretold.

 

And He was announced to Joseph

Temporal man at family’s head.

– Joseph married anyway –

His greatness is still read.

 

He was announced to herders,

‘Round campfires on Judah‘s hills;

Men know for their roughness –

Flesh, less frivolous frills.

 

Creatures from Glorious Yonder,

Harmonized them on the wing.

Announcements were made in verse.

Song is a wondrous thing!

 

He was announced to wise ones,

Far across Near Eastern sand.

Twilight’s lavender shade,

A new star joined the band.

 

“It can mean but one thing,” they said,

“A new head there is to crown.”

Camel and prince, and his gift

Traversed waves sifty, brown.

 

Each old herald in manner,

Is thanked for his timely thought,

But from their time, to ours,

The news had to be brought.

 

Burlap-clad, unsung, greats of yore

Told son’s sons, time on time.

Some traveled long, hard and late

In a worse, foreign clime.

 

Decades passed the Word along;

Announcements were made to tribes;

Were made in chieftain’s huts

Via tokens and bribes,

 

Were made inside the palace gates,

Were made to craftsman and slave,

To the weak, growing weaker,

To brawny man, thought brave.

 

Until, O Joyous Hour,

(After centuries of trust

It still was being told,

For telling it is a must)

 

Someone announced His birth to you –

To me, the story was clear.

Throughout this Christmas Season,

May their mem’ry be dear.        – eab, 12/83

 

Penned in Friendsville, Tennessee on the western edge of Blount County.

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