Select Page

Through the tall wooden door she leaves one realm and enters another, turning the nob, stepping into dawn’s light, streetlights yet lit, half-moon lingers.

The sun hovers above horizon, a mirage, holy light, appears with early morning dog walkers.

Icicles break free from rooftops, water drip drops off gutters. A Blue Jay calls, the Woodpecker knocks.

Through this gentle morning light she walks.

Returning changed, she glances up, noticing how two great support beams intersect, a cross hovering over her.

As hyssop once painted blood on tops and sides of doorframes, a sun-drenched splash of rainbow washes the wood. Christ’s own blood washes her.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This
%d bloggers like this: