Thank you Susan. Thank you Rick, may have said this in the blurb, but I always had the Beagle on my bucket list, and it was a thrill to see your Darwin sonnets unspooling here. Michael says he's betting on me. I wrote a really tiny ode for my big hunting buddy Steve a couple weeks ago. Here is the Epode:
Syrdal Speaks
Steve speaks in a dream,
likely a smoky bar:
“Things aren’t all that they seem;
though Murphy’s come so far
and the known risk is grim,
I’ll stack my chips on Tim.”
Then Steve adds with a grin,
“I’m all in.”
I'm experiencing just a flood of inspiration every day, even twice, four times a day. Twenty-eight poems since Holy Saturday. Thank you Holy Spirit.
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