pastor appreciation poem

city that is not a city
two rows of cabbages
gloom
with the sunset
but i cannot read you now
earth travails
grieve not for the invisible
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
the agony of having too much power
come down at dawn from windless hills
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
dark-eyed
days endeared to every muse