To my Better

One man wields words so well, I’ve wondered:

Is no left-leaning cow unsundered?

Wryly, Riley’s lithely rhymes

Often mime the chapel chimes.

Profligate, this word-stuffed beast

Bests celebs who are the least.

Waxes, times, religious awe

That drops my soul’s dumb, gaping jaw.

And then perhaps there are his best–

Pure grams of gold–an eggéd nest.

I wish I had his constancies

To match his craft, his constant sees.

2 thoughts on “To my Better

  1. Wow, Todd. I don’t know what to say. I’ll have to mull this over and, maybe, come up with a more appropriate response. Off the top of my head, I’d say the important thing is not who excels at what but how each of us can use our particular talents in defense of an embattled cultural tradition….

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