In the day, I walk in freedom like the face of a daisy that spills into song. It is quietly singing in me, freedom, as my eyes find delight among the tender shadows of a garden. In there, under the cool shade, snails cluster like they are praying. I enter the cathedral under the roses swaying with the wind, and sing with scents of the earth far from deceit, I plunge my heart into the silence and listen to you, Lord. Stopping only, to ask for alms along the silk trail of a snail, glittering with the moon. © 2014 by Bruce Owens
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 09:27:07 +0000
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