“Lilies of the Field,” New Era, Sept. 1998, 26
“And yet I say unto you that even
Solomon in all his glory was not
arrayed like one of these” (Matt. 6:29).
I pull on the cool, satiny air,
flexing my fingers into each sheath
and wrap around my waist
the rustling folds of a soft breeze.
I tie aroma like a scarf about my neck
and stroke its silken fringe,
pin up the loose strands of my hair
with silver darkness,
fasten a cloak of cricket song over my shoulders,
and thread dewy blades of grass around each ankle.
Then I descend a cloudy staircase,
turn the doorknob of the moon,
and step out into the night in this,
my favorite evening gown.