My Stale and Sorry Breads


        I shall go and feed the fishes
        with all my stale and sorry breads.
        They have awoke from winter dreams
        and are crying with golden voices
        for crumbs from God's prodigious hand.
        I'll play the role of God for now
        and gaze upon my creations
        and shed tears into their waters.
        For they will wait in vain
        for my returning.


Copyright 1998 by Ervin J. Dunham

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