by The Highland Shepherd's

THE FRAGRANCE BLOWING

The word of God comes from within
beneath the ken of knowing
from behind the mind it enters in
a kind of air, a fragrance blowing.
Melts steel, rocks evaporate,
enervates the hostile, crumbles walls
refashions all things small and great;
an inner Sun replacing inner squalls.
Unaware, we wait It’s coming
Looking outward down the road
pious incantations humming
and search again the secret code
Until we turn and feel the inkling of a shift;
A breeze the sail luffs, the sunken spirits lift.


Poems from the Eighth Decade
Copyright © Harold Macdonald 2004 used with permission

Harold Macdonald Poetry