The Astrologer on Good Friday

The old man stroked his beard Bent low over his texts Eyes grown dimmer

Outside workmen are finishing some project The hammer blows seem loud as thunder A shudder runs through him with each blow He recalls a journey long ago Mile on mile Sore foot weary camels Frankincense gold and myrrh Chasing a singular star

Today the stars show at midday The sun is eclipsed He wonders what it means Bowed low over his books Eyes grown dimmer A shudder runs through him

Published April 19 on the Ancient Paths Facebook page.

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