f Jägermeister "Like arrows in the hands of a warrior __are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man __whose quiver is full of them." ---Psalm 127 My quiver’s full, as David said, With children sharp as arrowheads, I’ve taught to aim at Truth and seek, To pierce the flesh, and kill what’s weak, That what is strong might live instead. Our world wants them as dull as lead, In hopes they’ll miss, and live in dread, I hit my mark, though it’s not chic, __My quiver’s full. The devil hopes we’ll be misled, And that our core beliefs won’t spread, Yet I don’t think things look too bleak, When I reach back, I turn my cheek, And send forth arrows I have bred; __My quiver’s full. . . We Ran I think its grand that I’m your man, I’ll give you everything I can, I’ll work until I’m drenched in sweat, Cause you’re the sweetest girl I’ve met, With you my future has a plan. And so, I’ll toil until I’m tan, And with your love we’ll plant our clan, We might be broke and crazy, yet, __I think it’s grand! One day I’ll think how we began, And all the love in our lifespan, With all our children we beget, The daily grind we did not fret, And won the race just ‘cause we ran; __I think it’s grand! . . Gregory Ross is an emerging poet and a pilot who lives in Stafford, Virginia.