THE BIRCH
TREE
Shale-gray morn,
Lace in purse,
Thin-paged Missal,
Scriptural verse.
Rosary rattles,
Scooped from table,
Will pray ‘fore Mass
If I am able.
Quiet, still,
Children sleeping,
One more coffee
For my keeping.
Back porch view,
Conscience-clear,
Trees stand guard
There’s naught to fear.
For like the tree
With anchored root,
When heresy-hales
I can dispute…
Hold holy ground
White-surpliced birch,
“Anchors aweigh!”
I sail to Church.
Shale-gray morn,
Lace in purse,
Thin-paged Missal,
Scriptural verse.
Rosary rattles,
Scooped from table,
Will pray ‘fore Mass
If I am able.
Quiet, still,
Children sleeping,
One more coffee
For my keeping.
Back porch view,
Conscience-clear,
Trees stand guard
There’s naught to fear.
For like the tree
With anchored root,
When heresy-hales
I can dispute…
Hold holy ground
White-surpliced birch,
“Anchors aweigh!”
I sail to Church.
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