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Fall/Winter 2017
Jared Schmitz |
THE GROVE |
The stars are all alight with sacral fire.
They shine down upon a moonlit ash-grove,
A temple among the trees and briars,
All sparkling with spider-webs’ treasure trove.
Wolves and bats and all manner of night-things
Come to watch the stars, count constellations.
Laughing and mocking come sprites on their wings;
Solemnly comes the king of elf-nations.
They stop. All tremble. The master has come
Into the woods, with stigmata-pierced hands
Held wide and honey-sweet words on his tongue,
Speaking the love of God for all woodlands.
Thus the night when St. Francis preached to beasts,
His love too great for only men to feast. |
Jared Schmitz, a librarian, is currently studying for his Bachelor's in English at the University of Kansas.Earlier this year, he won K.U.’s William Herbert Carruth Memorial Poetry Contest. |
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