[the declaration]

song-poet voice like child whisper
spirit solid as stone
faith my shiny marble
held out to You with tiny, stained hands
it's my only pretty penny
copper circle around my need
such is the wealth I have to offer
in a sum, quite near nothing
still I know every treasure
gathered up in the folds of my skirt
snow white bird feather
plucked from blackened ash and gutter
soupcon and glimpse
Your table waiting in the wilderness.