Waiting for Words
my tongue is the pen of a ready writer
I search dictionary and thesaurus for
the crucial words to tell of a Savior
who gathers little children in His arms,
fractious children who’ve played in mud,
harrowed faces stained with sour grapes,
eyes greedy for worldly manna
tongues sowing tares of slander.
My pen tarries, waiting for words.
Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.