November— Still walking in pines— A waxing gibbous moon— Crying out loud To a black and silent sky. Yet know the voice— Know the hand— Familiarity beyond faith— And turning Back, swear Upon the Northern Cross.
11/13/2013
Author's Note: Walking in the dark.
Posted on 11/14/2013Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes
*Love this*
