On beginning

The first days with the flaming sword, I swore
I’d break my arms, or burn my fingertips.
My palms were blistered. Skin came off in strips.
At sunset I’d be weary to the core.
And now I can, with joyful spirit, tell
How when my widespread wings were newly fledged
I lost control, and ended my flight wedged
Inside a cliffside crack (from which I fell!)
In time I learned to better wield my sword
And not set light to quite so many trees.
I fly for days on end with grace and ease.
And doing these things well, I please the LORD.
(But I confess – His pleasure’s just a part
Of my delight in mastering my art.)

Written for Teresa Nielsen Hayden at the beginning of a new job, and posted on Making Light.

The spirit of Xopher inhabits us all

The ti bon ange wakes and sips its tea.
The day awaits, the curled-up sleeping man
Lies ready to inhabit, so it can
In all he does, express divinity.
In cyberspace, the greater angel stirs
And spreads its bit-fledged wings, extending far
Beyond a body’s reach. The shining star
Of Coming Light unfallen, it confers
Upon its willing agents powers thus:
The well-wrought pun, the gentle quip,
The tactful hint, the jest whose pointed tip
Is yet unbarbed. And so it graces us.
O Xopher’s angel twins, the great and small,
Come comment here, enlightening us all!

Written to embarrass my friend Xopher on Making Light.