The Shrine

        To place a child
        in a niche,
        a smooth stone cradle
        and let him stand
        warm body on rigid rock:

        Be a sculpted creature
        of pink cheek and wind tossed hair
        let the Zephyr bend round your stance
        as it bent round an urn,
        spun centuries ago.

 

 

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab