Hymn


I make note of this bright hour,
passed in the quiet, alone.

No song is its equal, no poem,
only the joy a child knows.

I mark my hunger and thirst,
my tired muscles, fingers, and bones.

I set down my ignorance;
beside it, I place all I understand.

Let the two know one another.
Let them smile and become friends.

January 25, 2006
























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