Friday, September 21, 2007
This week, we have an original sonnet that I wrote last night, still untitled.
It seems to strange to start a new year now, when
the ground is dying and green things turn brown.
Last week, we ate apples and honey, then
cast bread crumbs into the river to drown.
But the ram's horn echoes, my sins return
to haunt me as I ignore the harvest.
The ground hardens. The wind picks up. I yearn
to be forgiven so that I may rest
in order to prepare for the coming
snow and rain, before the damp chill invades
my bones. If we have forgotten something
we would have done, like forgiveness mislaid...
Deal with us in charity and kindness.
Our Father, Our King, our sins are confessed.
I hope everyone has a good fast.
Sara has the round-up! Thanks for hosting!