Skip to content
I MET HIM IN THE WOOD
I met him in the wood,
Saying prayers on old beads,
He talked of the Mass,
And Confession his favourite themes:
He said we were lonelier than before,
Although we had everything and more:
He half blessed me as he spoke,
The blackbird never took a pen and wrote,
The dark runs into frosted fields,
And a crow knows when it is time to yield:
God is everywhere I thought,
The more I read the less I sought:
He bade me God speed,
Then on the bank I saw a little weed,
Does God worry about a thing so small?
Or does He care about us at all
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related