Lowly Sacrament
- Apr 25
- 1 min read
Tumble down
The terrace steps,
Into the misty, murky, cool, damp depths
Of rice paddies,
Stacked in rows they peer,
As stalk behind stalk holds sustenance dear.
As grey draws in
And fog stoops down,
I sit watching the growth of a grain well renowned
For feeding mouths,
Moulding temples and shrines;
Sacraments reared from lowly staples of mine.
