by Randolph T. Holhut
Chief of AR Correspondents
December 10, 2010
On Native Ground
OBAMA WAVERS, AND DEMOCRACY HANGS IN THE BALANCE
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BRADENTON, Fla., Dec. 21, 2010 -- After 465 years, The American Reporter welcomes back the Moon at Winter Solstice.
This sonnet to Elizabeth Frain was written in 1974.
The yellow moon that in our dooryard pines
Our tides and wanton destinies controls;
Waxing or waning, still its beauty shines
While all beneath our stupid fury rules.
Love, in its full tide's a deeper mystery:
Though now it leave us, it soon returns
To sweep our lives across with majesty
Whose wake they watch whose lives again it spurns.
They cannot count on love, but must await
Passages, lending and diminishments -
Stately bones that come to them too late
To wear as crowns or scorn as ornaments.
Let this be so, though even this much change:
Our love is like the moon, whose beauty reigns.
-- Joseph Patrick Shea
Copyright 2014 Joe Shea The American Reporter. All Rights Reserved.