He looks me in the eye,
expresses gentle thanks
accepts the gift card I say
in the name of Jesus
pressing his arm so he knows
Touch and Who answered
the prayer from those blue
eyes set on a leathery field
framed with scrub brush
The flag of his face follows
me to the car, drapes itself
over the passenger seat
and my mind
wanders along streets of militant
people who drove
his retreat to that
corner on this day
in the shy way
rain does not wish to fall
on the just
2 comments:
Stellar. STELLAR.
agreed. wonderful.
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