Poem: Sap Ripe

A mule passed and its scattering flies.

The panniers with grapes compacted,

Dusty royal and sap ripe.

The boy of nine poured over the regularity

And in his silence

Heard within the bell strike

The deep down rising in him.

Tales told and tapped from desert vendors

The boy weighed and knew their theme:

Freedom through forgiving;

Up from some eternity

And in his silence

Heard within the bell strike

The deep down rising in him.

Some spry resourceful daughter

Towed him, winded, with gripped hand

Up some stream. They laughed, lapping

The water chill, gasping with delight

And in his silence

Heard within the bell strike

The deep down rising in him.

A.M.Shaw

Revised July 2021