~ Keith Moul
The Little Galum Creek flows tawny
past the old Presbyterian Cemetery;
evangels roam and touch the stones;
the Word flows like blood from fingers;
the retinue waits primed at edge of rest
until Jesus shall call, and He will call.
Often my forefathers speak as I pass,
of glory awaited after suitable time,
but chanting song lyrics I do not know,
indicating that the burgeoning ground
lacks room for both saved and unsaved.
Are these jealousies of ancients interred?
Our congregation’s pantheon of ardor?
Strange night thought after the centuries
of righteousness that have gone in there.
Today, we follow an old-time crafting
of goodness, brightened by the hot sun;
true, we take Christ painlessly, granting
both His stated wish and our wishes in turn,
a happy partnership blessed in benefaction.
Perfect in kind is Galum’s gurgle; presence
so cool, its memory abides with me always.
Keith Moul’s poems and photos are published widely. In August, 2017, Aldrich Press released Not on Any Map, a collection of earlier poems. These poems are from a new work about prairie life through U.S. history, including regional trials, character, and attachment to the land. They may parallel in some ways Spoon River. They are collected now in Voices beneath the Winds, seeking a publisher.
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