Don't Mention It

My homeless thoughts are a worthy offering to

The God of small things when He is not being the

God of big things, He stretches out to me fragile

Careworn hands that I may drink from them light

No man is hungry after a feast of drops of light

I gaze at Him quietly- my soul falls into His all as

I apply salve to his scourged, aching back and

Wash His insulted feet with the kindness of deed

He says “Thank you for trying for me”- I am ashamed

For the wounds I carved- He says “Honey, don’t mention it”

And lights a cigar.

Reviews

[Larry Dyson]

such rich images..."a true feast of expressions.." love the George Burns cigar touch...the meek truely will inherit the earth..