A hush between light walls, And quiet rooms separated by Dark paneled doors, The brass knobs curling Like friendly fingers Reaching out to welcome me in. Worn books near where we wait, Well-used, well-loved, Like the people who thumb through them Searching out Christ. Outside, I know that all the world can see Moroni shining in the evening sun, Which slips behind the mountain as they stand And listen to his golden trumpet play. I think of how Christ’s gospel, like the day, Will never leave my life for long. Then turning and through glass doors Making way, I’ll sit […]
Menu
