--
So we stir wrath's stew in life's simmered kettle
as Spring fun is the punch flung from sprung petal
when light's sword swings might and heightens bright metal.

Then who'll know we're in god since god's in all things?

Those stones thrown will pebble honed granite-dogmatic
and birds soar flutterly absurd - at core, actors- dramatic.
Man alone's the syndrome. Pathetic? Emphathic!

Then who'll know we're in god since god's in all things?

Glenn Bagshaw

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-druid-speaks/