Lustrous Breakfast Time
My Aunt Lorena comes to me in dreams—
And when I’m eating breakfast. That seems odd
Until you know that sometimes she poured streams
Of milk on Ruskets, fond with cream from God
At camp meeting, inside her canvas tent.
When Aunt Lorena smiled there in that shade,
A morning sunshine brightness caused a rent
Inside her Holy Place. A tear was made
That showed the Holiest of Holies, light
Inflowing from the highest realms above.
Lorena was divinity in slight
Humanity, theophany in love.
Her voice and her acts were filled with good.
That’s what my young religion understood.