Sunday Grace

Strong echoes
As blackthorn
And pear blossom
Hint at fruit to come.

This day
I find myself
Nestling in a grove
Of fronding ferns.

At my side
Standing tall
Figures of triumph
In ages past.

Arms reach out
To free my soul
And set me to fly
Beyond my fastened weight.

The lightness
Of their being
Gives us confidence
To speak of angels.

JL April 7. 13:25