__The victims are the Hallowed. The sufferers  and their families are the takers of all such terror_ each a giver of life, and an emblem for whom we must all strive; strongly we seek worldly goodness.  _m


Dry gasp,
this choke of care;
our wrenching tears to the
victims of that primitive rage.
Hallowed.

This Cinquain is a recent comment posted at Rachel's  blog, with some slight changes. _m

I write,
as I do feel
this turmoil in my mind.
Perhaps by telling with my pen, 
I learn.
 

__In my comments, 'tis time I step back to fewer words; definitions as chosen by the reader, can often differ from those of a scribe... who intends no insults.  _m

Few words
often say more
than too many to count,
and in colloquial clamor
misread.
 

__I left this Cinquain in an instant... at Talon's most recent post, it was inspired by K's poem... "Snippets from a Summer Journal." 
__I was brought back to my childhood; the memories, the taste of new black birch twigs, and walking among the moss and wild violets.
Thanks K!   _m


Black birch,
in this new bark
I taste the sweet syrup
and walk among the violets.
Such gifts.

__Kathy and I have known Michelle since before she was born, now... off to college at the end of summer, and at tomorrow's gathering we'll wish her well! I'll not tell her of this post in her regard... but she will know!     

we knew
before you came
the worth of your collage
now journey off to college life
new worlds           

Yesterday, I found the first Rod McKuen book I purchased in 1969 (or thereabout,) "Listen to the Warm," I always liked those words and today, of them, I scribbled this (sort of) Cinq.


listen
to the warm breeze
seeping through the lilacs
into every awakened sense
new dawn