A million cotton blossoms dot the sky Toward the east as though swift fingers spread, Ecstatically, their fluffiness. -- God I Knew surely it was false that he was dead ... My dark-skinned Mose ... You're comforting his soul With field work, such as he has ever known, Easing transition. When night's vespers toll, My heart knows well, You'll greet him there, alone, At the last turning of the homeward lane To lessen any strangeness he may know With, "Mose, it's good to hear your step again." -- O God, don't leave him for he needs You so! But -- should an angel wish new duties, see, Please God, if he would come to comfort me. |