Poem September 8, 1973 ISSUE

ACCEPTANCE

Ann C. Stewart

In the high meadows,sunk between walls of pine and rock,the sun comes late and never lingers.To be content, one who loves mountainsaccepts as surrogatefor first horizon glowa single cup of suncaught highand held in blazing snowtill it brims overspilling down in reckless leapsof splashing lightextinguishing the mountain's nightand ours.

In just this way, standing deep in shadow,I once was drenchedwith lovehaving accepted one token ofGod's love as evidence enough. I foundflood tides of pure affectioncascading from a cup.

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