A Wednesday in winter – a poem

The robin that feeds at my window

whispers a hymn

and tentatively

I follow, stepping by streams

that seek no rest.

Cold stares from stones

betray my mind,

the fall has never been

so welcome.

My body opens in weakness

as sundrops shine holy light

on my broken pieces with tender


A communion of presence,

a remembering of place.

Still, seen and sung into silence.

Resurrection; the ebb and flow

of natures song.

I go back to my window.

I am home again.


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