Here's a little poem to lift you away into fall.


Sometimes, it comes in bunches
while you’re busy, pursuing hunches
working through lunches-
that life-halting revelation
defying all evaluation-
Way too grand 
to let you stand
still and ponder
while you wonder 
if there’s money in it.
No time, just spin it,
watch it rise,
a big surprise,
pulls you off the ground,
wraps you round
in the sound
of stupendous mirth
at your rebirth.
For what it’s worth,
you’ve got wings now.
Doesn’t matter how,
it’s a gift, you see,
to set you free,
help you to be
at home in the sky.
So, fly.

 Click here or play to listen.

Henry's books.


  1. i love this, Henry..right on the nose! looks to me like this belongs in The Winged Child.

    1. I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sharon. This one was written awhile back, when I was working up to the idea of the Winged Child, which has accumulated a lot of stuff by now, some of which I'm not at all sure belongs to it. I fear there's a lot of re-writing (and un-writing) in my future.

    2. I sure do understand about stuff piling up in short stories and novels (or in my case, in a would-be novel that keeps veering off in a score of directions). any update on the new book of short stories yet?

    3. I've sent the Early Dark ms. off to several publishers who asked to see it. So far, it has been greeted with a profound and unbroken silence.

    4. It hasn't been that long. Your track record is very very good..the right publisher will take notice, I feel it in my (old) bones.


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