Wednesday, December 31, 2025
Tuesday, December 30, 2025
Monday, December 29, 2025
Beautiful in Spring
We'll all be beautiful in Spring
in spite of how they've hatedand tried to make us hate.
Sunlight will infuse green leaves
with gold. It will round out our beauty,
too. The fantastic browns
of earth will nourish our context.
We'll talk superbly with each other.
sometimes without talking.
We'll do Spring walking
And see birds flocking
When we're beautiful in Spring.
Yes, it's true: beauty's not
for the few. It's standard issue.
Let the dirty drifts and banks
of comparison melt away
to feed the flowers
Yes, it's true: beauty's not
for the few. It's standard issue.
Let the dirty drifts and banks
of comparison melt away
to feed the flowers
hour by hour, and we'll smell
fragances in Spring, yes
fragances in Spring, yes
fragance is the thing,
when we're all beautiful
when we're all beautiful
You'll see. You'll see
when you're beautiful in Spring
hans ostrom 2023/2025
Sunday, December 28, 2025
Friday, December 26, 2025
Thursday, December 25, 2025
Wednesday, December 24, 2025
Tuesday, December 23, 2025
Sunday, December 21, 2025
Saturday, December 20, 2025
Thursday, December 18, 2025
Wednesday, December 17, 2025
Tuesday, December 16, 2025
Monday, December 15, 2025
Sunday, December 14, 2025
Saturday, December 13, 2025
Friday, December 12, 2025
Skeleton
It is a kind of photo you’ve seen
Before--a lot. It’s of a skeleton
The diggers have exposed. They’ve brushed
Away the dirt and clay except
Around the rib-cage. The skeleton,
Antique by human standards, lies on
Its side. You see the skull, the teeth,
The fleshless grin—or grimace? Scream?
This time you press upon the image a
Mortified deep sorrow; no: deeper: shame.
All camouflage and pretense srtipped
Away. No garments, skin, or jewels,
No hair or flesh or flab, organs, blood.
Just the once-used, useless calcium frame,
Which diggers brush. And just the
Gaping mouth. The ideas that person had
Are scattered atoms now--at best.
And yes, you feel death’s scandal, which
A body with its brain must face as fact.
It is no wonder faith in an Otherness appeals.
Before--a lot. It’s of a skeleton
The diggers have exposed. They’ve brushed
Away the dirt and clay except
Around the rib-cage. The skeleton,
Antique by human standards, lies on
Its side. You see the skull, the teeth,
The fleshless grin—or grimace? Scream?
This time you press upon the image a
Mortified deep sorrow; no: deeper: shame.
All camouflage and pretense srtipped
Away. No garments, skin, or jewels,
No hair or flesh or flab, organs, blood.
Just the once-used, useless calcium frame,
Which diggers brush. And just the
Gaping mouth. The ideas that person had
Are scattered atoms now--at best.
And yes, you feel death’s scandal, which
A body with its brain must face as fact.
It is no wonder faith in an Otherness appeals.
hans ostrom 2025
Thursday, December 11, 2025
Wednesday, December 10, 2025
Tuesday, December 9, 2025
Monday, December 8, 2025
Sunday, December 7, 2025
The Curator
We think we've recalled
the best segments, short
or long, of life. (Let's leavethe worst on a smoking
slag heap as we speak.)
I know I've blanked many
good moments. I wish I'd
had a curator with me along
the ways to say, "This one,
store this one in the lock box."
If I could only poke around there
in memory with a digger's
trowel and brush. Then hold
up a lost treasured memory to the
sun, and smile, and breathe,
and sit to let the whole
recovered scene fill me
like a room accepting pine scent.
hans ostrom 2025
Saturday, December 6, 2025
Friday, December 5, 2025
Thursday, December 4, 2025
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