STRAY BIRDS
215
God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man's hands.
216
My sad thoughts tease me asking me their own names.
217
The service of the fruit is precious, the service of the flower is sweet, but let my service be the service of the leaves in its shade of humble devotion.
218
My heart has spread its sails to the idle winds for the shadowy island of Anywhere.
[63]
