Poem January 14, 1985 ISSUE

Contemplation

STANLEY JOHN YORK

Teach me where I need to go.Show me clearly. I would knownot human will but Your design—meekly patterned—make it mine.

Often I have plowed lone furrow,staring, anxious, at the morrow.Now, sandal-clad, I wait the cue,Your words to speak, my role assume.

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