Saturday, May 9, 2009

An exercise with H words

Honey gleams in the corner
hum of your mouth-- 
honest hole I stare into 
hour on hour. 
I would make my home, 
close to holy words,
near hands that play. 
Together our harmony
builds a humble church,
headed by a two fingered steeple. 

How long we waited, 
every peal of hollow bell
sharper than a hammer's edge. 

From this house 
all homilies proclaim 
hallowed be He, 
the one who hears. 

In the place of healing, He comes, 
inhabits the fellowship of our steeple. 

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