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Longing for Amalthea
A poem for Thanksgiving

Dream... of infinite oceans to nurture infinite life;
And rivers too, their flow and rush through time,
That nudge the silt and sand, like knives,
To furrow banks where thirsty
Game and fowl find feed and fuel;
While in the lush of groves and pastures,
Lavender scents and primrose petals
Sweeten the air, and distant vines climb skyward
And fruit trees bloom and spring wheat, sown
In perfect rows, await the autumn's scythe and sickle.
Dear autumn when greens turn umber and the harvest
Of the summer’s crop calls before the frost,
When cows and deer and lambs
Remain to graze on gentle sloping hills
As the days of fall are waning and are lost.

...And of springtime when we sow
New seeds to germinate,
Then wait;
Again, to gather, basket, shape and bake,
To form the art of the chef,
Sculpted monuments,
Sometimes simple,
Sometimes not,
To invite our taste and more;
To satiate; permit demeanor
And repose, alone, together,
At home with friends
Or in their kitchens,
...And at cafes
And where city gardens bloom;
Where our social moments and
Conversations rise above the din and
Come alive in daylight and beneath the moon.

And dream...of those, and thank,
Who reach beyond the bar,
Whose conscience lives both near and far
To hear the cry; hunger's cry,
And stand steadfast, aware
To know their vision be to share
Their harvest with those they've seen
To sleep on city streets
and upon parched earth,
where leaves once lush and green now crack,
and lifeless, barren branches fracture ;
Where famine be the slayer.

To cherish cornucopia;
The beautiful; the bountiful;
The tasteful flesh and fish,
Seeds and nuts,
Fruits and gourds;
Grains to flour, flour to bread;
Morsels to beget the thread
Of meals that weave lifelines
Into the fabric of our every day;
And with every breath and thought,
As we taste the meal and feel alive in every way;
The meal that makes us, us.

In Greek mythology, Amalthea is the horn of the goat that nourished Zeus, and origin of the word, cornucopia.

A Poem for the New Year, 2024

(Latin: an ardent longing)

In this New Year …
Let us with all our hope
For all our days
Bare no malice, anger,
Prejudice or harm and
Promise a wish to extinguish
All searing conflagrations
Of our fellowman; their plights of war;
Their illnesses and their poverty,
Their homeless pain… and more.

Let us with all our hope
Abet others who be sicker or poorer,
Ailing from greater oppressions, and
Look beyond the facades of hypocrisy
And denial and un-roof the truths,
For it is here we may find our naked selves;
Minds and souls and physical beings of
A human birthright:
To live above darkened clouds of desolation;
To thrive in tranquility absent hatred and denunciation.

Copyright 2023 Michael R. Berman, MD.
All rights reserved.








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