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Poetry

09/30/2015

 

Leavings
 
Crumbs and fish bones. Quiet precision
Of ants roaming on rugged stones.
Cautiously we grasp our wicker
Baskets loaded with leftovers.
 
Earlier he dared our lack of vision,
“Give them something to eat,” and led
Us with a simple invocation
To that sacred time of sharing.
 
Then he called the children to himself
And showed them how to feed the birds.
His gestures gave a certain colour
And lilies basked in full splendour.
 
By Conrado B. Beloso