The Callings of Sunday
The callings of Sunday are like
Light rising from the East
Breathing into the earth
Making the blue sky
In its endless grace.
A gentle falling of petals
On our heads and on
the flowing crystal rivers
showering the earth with
It’s beautiful perfume.
Music sung by the running wind
With an unwritten melody
That only it knows of
And the walls and
Dare to dance to the rhythm
The plants rising from the soil
Growing higher and higher
To look over the anthills
Searching out their new earth’s
Never ending design.
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