The Everlasting Mercy

I am directing the plow.
Horse well knows the routine.
Jangling his trappings.
Yeah, me…producing
Planning
Performing
Praying.
That’s the big part, praying.

Not always so
Not meself.
Poacher
Profane
Polluted with beer or gin.
Beggar man.
Womanizer, soaking Lust.
Puncher with cut knuckles
When called for.


Disdaining rector, councilman, banker
Landed big shot.
With that eccentric
Pipe and walking stick. The Ass.
Not invested with common sense.
Any of them.
Brought on my sourness, naysaying
Lack of fresh hope.
Days going nowhere.

But today, Spring’s best
Horse up to the test.
God surely blessed.
Gone what I messed.
Hallelujah.