The Interior of the Cathedral of Saint Paul © Amber Michel /AAphotographyinMN.com
The Interior of the Cathedral of Saint Paul © Amber Michel /AAphotographyinMN.com

Because the vistas end in arches
that do not change
And the grillwork of sails
forecasts a season of palms
The dove holds a steady hover
over the crossroads of death
My heart beats erratically
I have been afraid
of harsh words
of hounds quarrying
the cat of my aging.
Because the stone shines golden
through erratic chords
And the mundane world
falls away like shorn hair
The lilies in stained glass
stride forth like embattled veterans
I lower myself into the flood
My heart holds steady
A strong hand carries me,
leaf riding the crest.

Posted in: Poetry
Tagged: 2014, aging