all prospect of green pastures
are not withdrawn and hid from view,
for verily will we be led,
and certainly we shall be fed,
and the lilies of the field be
arrayed as beautiful as you.
we shall gather at the home
that grows beyond the unused gate,
beyond the stream of waters still,
our friends, standing by the window sill,
trying to get Christina’s eye,
who lay upon the grass, sedate.
the late summer seed are white caps
of prairie grass’s fetch and wave;
she lay prone like a goldfinch child,
lost her way in windy wild;
good shepherd launch his rescue craft...
from world’s corruption he shall save.