The Feast of the Presentation

Simeon has been dismissed.
Anna shed her widow’s weeds,
went dancing with the turtle doves,
snowing feathers; all that remains
is dust and the rubble of a memory,
the echo of a prayer, and a child, caught
by his woven onesie in a thornbush.

This entry was posted in Holy Days, poetry, prayer, story and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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