Jan Richardson adventdoor.com
Who can tell
the gift’s reason
I keep it against a day
when it is all I have left
when naked in the tide
eternity rises up
and claims me
On my waking
angels will find it
clutched in my fingers
this mysterious emerald
I have carried so long
never at all certain
how to spend it
“If I were hungry, I would not tell you,
for the world and all that is in it is mine.
Do I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?
Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving,
and pay your vow to the Most High.
Call on me in the day of trouble;
I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me.” ~ Psalm 50:12-15
Advertisements
reading your poems, I feel like your humble parishioner
LikeLiked by 1 person
What an incredibly kind thing to say, Paul! Thank you, though I am no longer a ‘shepherd’ just an old ‘sheep dog’ kept around to guard the barn . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
a barn can make for a mighty fine church
LikeLiked by 1 person
time and again your words touch me…
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are so kind to say so, Maureen . . . I am grateful . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person