Poems of John Donne | 
“Look, Lord, and find both Adams met me;/As the first Adam‘s sweat surrounds my face,/may the last Adam‘s blood my soul embrace.”
My ninety-year-old father died in his sleep Thursday night. He had been— before a good life pummeling— one of the wittiest and delight men. He‘d let puns fly like a gun slinger in his deep bass voice. I‘m so thankful he‘s no longer imprisoned by his own body. I have a remembrance on my blog TrappedintheScriptorium.com
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