Let us Talk as Men Do

Come then, and take a seat beside the flame -

the hour’s grown late, the wind has lost its bite.

A quiet road has led us here the same,

and talk is better company than night.

We’ll leave the wars of daylight to their field;

no sense to measure crowns or count our sins.

The worth of men is what they choose to yield,

not what the ledger tallies for their wins.

So speak of soil and seed, of frost and thaw -

the fragile things a winter nearly breaks

that rise again, defiant to the law

of bitter turns a colder season makes.

And if we find in talk a slender spark -

one thought that lights the wandering heart within -

we’ll carry it beyond the boundary dark

and know we truly spoke of important things.

GBS jr

2000