Morning, Good Friday - Poem by Steven Federle
Therefore let me know trust in the feelings of my heart. My hope is in what the hand of man has never touched. Do not let me trust what I can grasp between my fingers.
Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude.
high and thick
filled to brim,
by morning sun released
a fury of green, trees
believing that golden day
Persist, oh life,
despite the cold of winter,
and beat, my heart!
With tender heat
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