poetry and prayer

In the walled garden by the church, early crocuses are in flower.

[…] Under the trees
a crocus campfire kindles.

Yes, the half-closed flowers remind me of flames. But they also remind me of praying hands, though when they open more fully, it’s more as if the petals were spread wide to receive whatever alms or largess the prayers have prompted.
Continue reading “poetry and prayer”