The great enemy Death attacks our trenches, drops bombs, sends in assassins. Our ranks are badly thinned, but green troops keep rushing up to take our places.
We praise the woodstove for pouring out his beneficent warmth without a thought for the log inside giving his all.
There will be books in hell, but no light to read them by.
When lambasting youth, we seniors should remember the stages of silliness we ourselves have passed through.
Fisticuffs once took my teeth. Now a hard roll will do the trick.
Chairman Joe
Do "stages of silliness" even have a beginning or an end? Methinks not.
ReplyDeleteThe log in the fire reminds me of a story about an apple tree that gave its all to a boy who didn't understand the gifts: fruit, seeds, boughs and bark, and finally boards. To be consumed for the sake of love is a questionable business.