Tuesday, June 16, 2009


There is a path
between the trees
in the forest
lying next to a hill
at path’s end.
The rise of the sun
glimmers through the
branches which
meet briefly in the breeze
leaf tip to leaf tip,
forming a tunnel of
green fir.
The first squinting light
so bright
the edges of the trees
into the silhouette
of Him.
And he waits,
calling my name.

Marsha Salerno
April 2009

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