Appalachian Sunday

Appalachian Sunday

            For Brian


The black high-water marks

around his ankles    reflecting

the flash of rain

that rushed through the valley so early.


He stood, soles to rugged planks

of the one room cabin,

breaking a small package of crackers

in preparation for the Lord’s supper.


“The bread of life, take and eat.”

He took the battered thermos,

twisted the pitted metal cap,

it clanks to the side on its worn chain.

He filled the cup    with the milk

he had gathered that morning

in the sunlit sanctuary of the barn.


“The cup of salvation, take this and drink.”

The row of stuffed animals, broken dolls, battered trucks


in reverent silence.


Across the morning, a child laughed.


Leave a comment

October 19, 2012 · 11:31 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s