Meditating In A Copse Poem by Francie Lynch
Meditating In A Copse
I've laid the shovel down
And light a candle,
Though I hardly remember why.
I've grieved for the niches
Of para-pschology,
And a general spirituality.
The out-of-body vacations,
The near death revelations.
I pine for the oaken smell
Of pews in a row;
The creak of ancient kneelers,
A red bright sanctuary light.
I am pagan,
Meditating in a copse.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: paganism,religion
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4/30/2024 6:20:55 PM # 1.0.0.1119
