Maundy Thursday, redbuds frenetic with their magenta boogiewoogie a host of white sleeves the two plums outside our window the purple sash hung on the cross in front of the Pente- costal church a cape. Surely power of life over death trumps any way with train or joker or whathaveyou. It is not comic colors nor cool cars we come to adore but the thrill of fresh mulch on a March morning the first strawberry greenly anticipated the pig’s fat flirting fangling new the lacy hems of collard, mustard, kale
Quinn Amelia four days old
some voices gather for a last supper for a closer walk around vowels soft and consonants swift Yeshua, Jesus, Lord thank you for this life again and again and again
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