memory wins

clover takeover,but
i'm a giant,ain't i?
seems so when
i leave
wet footprints behind
me,two colors of
green,double paradise,

i destroy worlds,
miniature,three leaves
each,they've
never seen the
likes of me,

puddles test patience,
thank God for
rain boots,but
i'm too busy
worrying about a
soaked bumblebee who
slipped into a
crack,cinder block
steps foundation,
maybe he has a
family in there?
a fountain of
youth? or
just hiding from
friendly rain sprinkles,
friendly to me,in
just tshirt and pants,
no worries,

+ + +

abba sisois reminding

us,'our form of

pilgrimage is keeping the

mouth closed,'

but

i find something

like pilgrimage when

walking into st. elizabeth's,

the front steps and

foyer take me back to

days of prostrations,

kneeling with my

poor face

searching cracks in the

floor,

at least,

i do this in mind,

but

i pace myself,

noah and jonah on

either side of me,

walking the hallways,

like tunnels,

zig-zagging to the

children's room,

touching rich wood

moldings along the

way,

they would have

touched their

foreheads,like

a prostration in

short,

i missed

communion,but
boys clung to me
while the community
prayed for a
women who is
leaving for central america,

i find something
like pilgrimage,
in familiar and
unfamiliar faces
alike,
in words and
in silence,
in being present and
in being absent,

it's in that
'place' and it's
not me,
it's you.