I’m including a poem today that I wrote a few months ago. It is a reflection of the times in which we live: a period when the world is changing so fast that our children and grandchildren cannot even relate to the ways of society just a few decades past.

Just as there is a chasm between generations in technology and philosophy, there has been a figurative implosion of the Earth that has left us lost in clouds where no one can find sanctuary.

The tall grass can neither hide us nor protect us from the revolution that has swept us along for 115 years. Instead it helps to fuel the journey into the future, taking us to a place where even the ghosts are swallowed by their history.

“Ghosts” (copyright 2015, Glenn K. Currie) was just published in Touchstone’s summer issue, although an editorial error has listed the wrong author. Fortunately the check was issued to the correct person and I have been promised that the error will be corrected in the next issue.

My best regards to all of you for a wonderful 2016.

Glenn K. Currie

Ghosts            

Tall grass muffled their departure

So that I hardly knew they were gone.

Sometimes I think I see them

Running along the edge of ancient forests.

Their hooves pound the hollowed earth

That falls away even as I watch.

The ground shifts, the planet spins,

And they are swallowed whole.

Their graves are the caverns left

By the needs of their successors.

Their replacements rage across the land,

Arriving in spectacle, burning the air,

Eating the tall grass of their ancestors.