what of words
one blessing fails –
a choir can hardly sing
to tell of grace
in all I’ve known –
a loving solstice
brings

as voices blend
in whispering –
the ransom of my will
to a season saved for mary
candles reaching –
higher still

red and virgin
blossoms bleed
beneath an old and crooked tree
verses of ten thousand psalms
– professing love
for me

I wonder
though not so often
how sweetly the path was grown
another way
from all I dreamed –
returns my soul
to home

. . .