Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean
The children walking two & two in red & blue & green
Grey headed beadles walked before with wands as white as snow
Till into the high dome of Pauls they like Thames waters flow

O what a multitude they seemed these flowers of London town
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own
The hum of multitudes was there but multitudes of lambs
Thousands of little boys & girls raising their innocent hands

Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among
Beneath them sit the aged men wise guardians of the poor
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door

Ancient Patience
31 March 2023

Ancient trees, limbs outstretched,
Reach up. Seasoned, greet evening falling sun.
Each leaf alight, nature’s warmth fetched.
Hunger, now strong, early spring won.

Beneath canopies, awake azure green.
I am along a nascent forest bridge,
Dappled. Slow dance, bud keen.
Gentle breeze, stirs my every step, every edge.

A living choir plays. Praise to the light.
Holy embraced, their arts sketch line-shadow-blurred.
Canvas renews fond memories past,
Grounds hurt forgotten, trumpet safe interred.

Thirsty root dig deep, inspire.
Tomorrow’s promise, quenching beadles,
Necklace of puddled pearls, preparing fire.
Bracelet sun goldened wrist lit, life beget.

My steps turn homeward.
This day cedes eternal to fading light.
My heart, sated silence forward,
Guides my coming night.

Through trees towered high,
Ancient, paitience love,
Fills my heart with grace.
Fruitful life nigh.

Written by
BTW

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