its pretty petals
over the brown
lifeless bed
Poetry
Posted inPoetry
Aubade at Eighty Five
And you pray
for help, one day at a time, sweet Jesus, as the mantra goes.
Posted inPoetry
At the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Washington, D.C.
She is the quickening, the leap of faith;
she the tabernacle, mother of the world.
Posted inPoetry
Our Epiphany
Because they left, they could arrive.
Because they searched, they could find.
Because they wandered, they discovered.
