Going To Church In Winter
Slight as birds
Not in flight,
But well placed
Between hill and
Village, snow as it is;
Balanced, neutral.
Greyheads, silver-eyed
Drown in tweed,
Beyond manshape,
They ballet over ice,
Horse-footed,
Terse with God,
Wordless,
Sort of half alive;
Drawn against the white.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2015
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