Let spring in--
let the tender ivies twine round your bones.
Let the bluebells hang between your ribs,
let their bright blue music sing
into your very marrow.
Let redbuds grace the bole of your torso,
the branches of your arms,
the twigs of your fingertips.
Let lilies of the valley wreath your heart,
each long dark leaf sheltering
a tiny white line of blossom.
Let violets nestle everywhere
and a few brash dandelions.
Receive this budding, this bursting, this leafing out--trusting
"His mercy is over all that He has made."
let the tender ivies twine round your bones.
Let the bluebells hang between your ribs,
let their bright blue music sing
into your very marrow.
Let redbuds grace the bole of your torso,
the branches of your arms,
the twigs of your fingertips.
Let lilies of the valley wreath your heart,
each long dark leaf sheltering
a tiny white line of blossom.
Let violets nestle everywhere
and a few brash dandelions.
Receive this budding, this bursting, this leafing out--trusting
"His mercy is over all that He has made."
Wow! Brava!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Thomas D! This one was fun to write.
DeleteVery lovely. I need to be reminded to truse in God's mercy. Thank you for this helpful reminder. I sent the poem to a friend, the one who introduced me to Denise, and she wrote back that the poem had been her church for the day. I do enjoy your poetry.
ReplyDeleteI've remembered this comment with pleasure, Newell. Thank you for sharing my poem with your friend, and her lovely response back with me. I began composing it in my head on my way to church, and scribbled bits during the sermon.
Delete