Poetry

...The Icon Here in this icon out of ancient Russia Brown as amber the little Mother of God Holding her Infant to her cheek Is present to us In all her wise And peaceful sorrow A forest hermit painted this They say at night his face lit up the snow And he befriended robbers And very often He gave the bears his bread...

...13 Anne Porter A Carol Painters can speak To my am Who can see Musicians To anyone Who can hear Apoet Can speak only To someone Who knows His native language I can speak to you In your straw-lined cradle You know all languages...