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

stooped

in reverent silence.

 

Across the morning, a child laughed.

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October 19, 2012 · 11:31 am

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