For her homecoming, she wore flowers in her hair.
She looked beautiful, they said- her daughters put them there.
We sang her favorite hymn, with joy, in country time;
With fifty rasping voices full of artless fervor chimed
The notes of one piano, thoughtfully singing light.
We sang as one, a blessed and broken body.
It was a rainy night.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.