Sacrifice of Thanksgiving by Heidi Zartman

We wandered on a little strand
Between the silence, and the sound —
The white snow still, untrodden, and
The ceaseless motion of the water.

The light lay on the edges of the waves:
They were like myriad children who
Would rush up, hesitate, and falter
Along the margin where we two
Were standing.

And all the shining middle ground
Was paved with stones that heaven cast down,
Till the wet sand
Shone jasper, emerald, amethyst, and blue.

We wandered on a slip of land —
One of my gloves in your free hand —
And all the stones that heaven cast down
I gathered in a little altar.

by Heidi Zartman


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