A poem for Lent
Twelve steps to the Post Office,
And sweet breeze beneath blossoming trees
Like Mary's perfume broken on the Savior's feet,
And here in the street, sweet spring is everywhere:
Sacrifice, hidden but not really in my town.
Even in line, twelve steps in twenty minutes,
Same sweet breeze follows me to the counter
Where a delighted dame looks at the name
Of the package's destination: Loveland.
What a nice name for a town, she says.
Twelve steps to the sidewalk, Front Street,
Two old men sharing a single cigarette,
But the breeze, now like grace,
Tends to erase the bitter and replace
It with something sweeter.
Like Mary's perfume.
With thanks to Diane Weible, for her sermon, 3/13/16.