TO THE VICTOR

Haunting and clever and smart,

with enough to fill each heart.

That's what our words must say,

If 'ere we languish for a day

Ye, languish among the stars,

Waltzing behind the frizzled clouds.

How else can thoughts become still,

and patterns form, or Justice glean,

to praise unadorned.

We'll have our say and store away

the Goodness lacking in common man.

To the Victor, we will present a blade

of grass,

Perfect for a prize so rare,

That which showed us all He cared,

He'll hold the greenery against us all,

What and when we begin to heal.

B.J. McCall

3/23/93