Poetry: Cream of the Crop

The Aleut said mocking, “the corner’s not cornered, it’s the cream of the crop.” “But the Bunsen’s not burning, and dear, the mop has rot and muff!” I fought. My argument fell a-light on the floor, for the Aleut saw dimly my sight. A cornering corner has no use for power if only to transpose […]

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Jigsaw puzzles. The pieces all mismatched. Lost. Looking for their place. Needing a hand to put them where they belong. Not unlike us, needing the Creator to show us where we fit in this life.

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