Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Day 45: The monks were singing

The monks were singing
in the middle of Matins
some heavenly
howling in ancient language,
as the last of the Garganeys
came flying and
sunlight beamed
on the tower —
there you arrived,
the monsoon wind blowing 
away the seams of your dress.
I took my hanky to wipe my eyes
as a voice whispered
”Love is to be eternally
with all that is good.”
I held your hand as we marched
thinking I have not done enough
to deserve this blessing.

No comments: