Tuesday, June 29, 2010


On the lonesome prairie
he prayed to every star
and silent hilltop. All his words
were like winds across the grass,
or the giving of gifts
from night’s friendly hands.
He had lost so much
in his old life,
but fires still burned
in his bright mind,
and summer seemed
to be bursting inside him.
Holiness was everywhere,
he knew,
and all his sorrows
had helped his life
look up and out
where winds wandered
without end.

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