Poem: “The Birch Tree”

The Birch Tree

Shale-gray morn
Lace in purse
Thin-paged Missal
Scriptural verse.

Rosary rattles
Scooped from table
Will pray ‘fore Mass
If I am able.

Quiet still
Children sleeping
One more coffee
For my keeping.

Back porch view
Trees stand guard
There’s naught to fear.

For like the tree
With anchored root
When heresy-hales
I can dispute…

Hold holy ground
White-surpliced birch
“Anchors aweigh!”
I sail to Church

Hilary McRee Flanery

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