Sunday Morning Poem by Leo Yankevich
Sunday Morning
We stand and watch, faith almost wavering,
hunger looking out of childish eyes,
daddy so tall, holding the frightened thing,
head on the block just as the hatchet flies,
falling… fallen by the empty pen,
taking the longest count, as red wings rise,
free at last, and we are saved again.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: hunger
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4/19/2024 3:08:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Sunday roast, free range chicken, nothing like it! !