From a rug to Jesus

It’s quiet here, where I’ve opened
the blinds and lie on the rug
thinking about the way that clouds

are moving above my roof, casting
shadows I cannot see just above
the cieling I stare at. I’m thinking
about the way your face hovers

over mine in that same way, and
it reminds me of a painting I saw
in a museum once, of a Mexican
man beneath a blue sky filled

with the puffy clouds a child might
draw, and floating there, above
him was Jesus, his sacred
heart exposed thru coral robes.

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Filed under Musings, poetry

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