When the moon is
but a sliver
and each star frozen
in an inky blue sky.
Blades of grass,
in fields of deathly brown.
like thick molasses,
creeps in from outside
and put a clamp around my heart.
I cry out to God,
like a lost child.
and He hears me
from up high.
Like a mother hen
He enfolds me with
In the icy darkness
His heart beating
an ancient lullaby
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