earthly vision

The balm of early Springtime.
Gentle sun washing through the garden of my father.
A light haze upon the Wicklow mountains.
Jess tussles quietly with a stick on the lawn, her tail waving like a banner.
I stand.
A dove alights on a branch in front of me.
He looks at me and coo's.
His voice is holy.
It's all true bold readers.
Jesus.
The Church.
The power of God.
Everything you've heard.
Is true.
I must repent in sackcloth and ashes.