Amy Secrist

Tag: Catholic poetry

  • The sight of him

    The sight of him, looking out of the window, is like the presence of God. His cheeks sit warm and plump on his little face:  plums curving perfectly in the sun; his lips, puffy and glistening, sit above his small chin:  dew-covered honeysuckle in the morning. The chair cradles his little-boy body, strapped in and…

  • We Stop Beneath the Buckeye Tree

    The seed pod dropped on the sidewalk and split. I see the ruddy shine through a slit in the spiked orb and wonder at its depth of color, the certain slant of light spent on its creation and its becoming. I hold the sharp husk gingerly between my fingers and thumb and wonder at the satisfaction…

  • The Light and the Challenge

    In the blazing heat the trees and grasses golden; they are candleflame and firelight. In the shimmering cold the frogs and crickets amplify; they are thunderclap and echo. In the winding cave the dripstone spikes lengthen into mountain and valley where the heat blinds and the cold paralyzes, the climb and the cliff wear and scatter,…