Once there was a man who believed in God. . . but not that this God would become a man. . .and each Christmas eve he would stay home while his family went to Church.

One Christmas eve it began to snow. Soon heavy, wet flakes covered the trees and ground. Then a strange new sound broke the quiet of the night. . . caught in the wet and clinging snow, floundering and flapping upon the ground were many tiny birds. . .

They would need shelter against such a night, or surely die! So he put down his book and opened the garage door. . . but they would not go inside.

"Perhaps if I turned on the light. . . " but they only stayed outside, freezing in the snow. . .

"Maybe if I scattered bread crumbs up to the door and inside, they will follow the crumbs and take shelter."

But they remained on the outside.

"I will drive them inside," he decided. So as if they were cattle and not birds he stomped and hollered, but only made them more frightened as he blundered about.

"Perhaps if I made like a bird, I can lure them inside."

So bending his elbows and tucking his hands to his sides and flapping his arms, he hopped around and then up to the door and inside the garage~but he stood there alone, with the birds still outside.

He had tried everything he knew to communicate with the birds. How very ridiculous he must have looked to them. How big and powerful he must have seemed. How frustrated he himself felt.

All he wanted to do was to help them, protect them, and provide a safe haven. To what length would he have gone to show them that he cared?

"If I could only become a bird for just a few minutes--perhaps then they would see and accept me. . . let me save them. . ."

That's when the church bells rang out in the stillness of that Christmas night, and he heard the singing of the worshippers around the stable crib, and suddenly he understood--he knew--perhaps God felt that way, so long ago, and did become one with man.

Oh dear....

"Among the ideas cited by Defense Department officials is the idea of "fighting for intelligence," or commencing combat operations chiefly to obtain intelligence."

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(Evaline) sestina attempt # 1

Her need for preservation was quick.
He promised to lead her to a better life--
Her anxiety bordered on craziness,
But every ounce of her being
Shied from the commonplace.
Possibilities danced in her vision.

But she was haunted by ghosts in periphery vision,
Not clearly focused, but her heart beat quick,
She realized her very ambitions were commonplace.
Was this what she had wanted for her life?
Fear of failure bringing her to craziness,
It was a chore to just continue being.

Her frenzied thoughts could not keep from being
Dark, and it blotted blackness throughout her vision.
Such an effort to hide from all the craziness
That seemed to slash clear through the quick
Of her soul-- and in the confusion of her life
She began to discover solace in the commonplace.

There in the unappreciated commonplace
Was familiarity- yet with this another sort of craziness
Because this was the very stuff of life
Ignored, and with it she sank beneath vision
And the descent was mercilessly quick.
Suddenly she was less than being.

Could this be the heirloom of an older being?
Trapped likewise in the commonplace
Barely daring to peek out the window, quick
With nonsensical lonesome craziness?
At the dock she confronted a different vision
And a terrifying pathway for her life-

Yet this pattern wove an inescapable life
Sentence-she owed her existence to this being.
Her mother's shadow forever dimmed her vision.
She could not escape the commonplace.
In this world one must accept some craziness
Or with madness shall be quick.

"As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother's life
laid its spell on the very quick of her being--
that life of commonplace sacrifices closing in final craziness."