Saint Boniface Sometimes at night, freed from penance, I close my eyes and drift towards sleep Awaiting the slow spirals of stardust And droplets of light that emerge from Darkness and coalesce to form Crenellations above some ornate, Oriel window, inset with leaded Panes of carmine, Pyrenees green And chalice yellow. Colors settle Then soon abandon glass and dissolve Beneath a gilded asp, blending with Air and into body now rising beyond The plane of altar, the velvet nest of Tabernacle and the furrowed pews Worn to the hue of brown harness As I watch a younger self cradled In prayer and sowed with sorrow Waiting on the brighter hope and Splendor of sun piercing plumes Of incense and illuminating The arched, stained-glass window Depicting a solitary child in a field Necklaced by a brook and a gnarled Tree twisting up towards heaven, Blue leaves dripping, sky still bearing The sacred scars of falling stars.
A life-long resident of Connecticut, John Muro is a graduate of Trinity College. He has also earned advanced degrees from Wesleyan University and the University of Connecticut. His first volume of poems, “In the Lilac Hour,” was published in October 2020 by Antrim House, and the book is available on Amazon. He has spent most of his professional career serving as an executive and volunteer in the fields of environmental stewardship and conservation. John currently lives on the Connecticut shoreline with his wife, Debra Ann.
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