Poem
First Corinthians Thirteen: Eleven
Scott Hertzog |
Previous | Next |
When I was a child, I talked like a child,
I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
Over the crackle grass,
echoes of childhood settle,
creep to the base of the sugar maple,
where I shimmy up,
where my brother lifts Fred,
our white cat,
into my waiting hands.
We are testing Newton’s law,
the adage of a cat,
the principle of always.
I consider revisiting this,
calling up my brother to say
“I have a ladder,
the tree still stands
and I just bought a cat.”
However,
knowing this test would trigger
neighbor alarms alerting the League,
I settle, quiet the urges,
and take solace in recollection.
Scott Hertzog lives in Ephrata, Pa.
| 
