J.5.TW

Brother Edward, leather apron fire-ticked,
leans near the anvil
finishing a plow blade.
Red wings drift across the coals.
Sister Judith, weeding  the herb garden,
crushes thyme between her fingers,
kneels to smell the fresh rosemary.
A garden snake sends
shivers through the chives.

His hands know hammer and cold iron
as hers know butter and brown dough.
Last evening, at meeting,
custody of eyes was broken.
This morning, at their duties
they whisper to themselves,
“hands to work, hearts to God”
while flames on hearth and forge
flare small sermons about hell.

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