Mullioned Window
The sunset kindles into fire
the lights of the mullioned window;
The purple evening is dipped
in the dyes of poppy crimson;
The old glass is a gleaming swell,
A hologram of sun-fire waves;
Jonah looks from a whale’s belly;
Where the tracery ribs the arch,
is where the head, the heart and hand
of a craftsperson worked together.
The sacred is the human touch.
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