Friday, December 5, 2008


Frost upon the dew of grass tip toes towards winter
My faith, failing, faltering, growing, all at once, I see the hope of
A bright new day begins, the shadows fleeing
Abide in me

Kindness will succor me. Mercy my Lord, I beg thee
Stay with me a while. Sup with me.
And yet in the creased morning
I see the light

I didn't take the token of the flesh that day
My palms sweating, mother questioning
reflected upon the purity
And at the table, apple beside me
I write

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