Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Healing Conversations
I find him heartening,
that fellow who, half-healed,
likened men to leggèd trees.
There are lots of us blurry folk,
divine spit on our lids,
telling God what we see.
Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteI agree with Beth -- excellent!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ReplyDelete