Poetry

by Darrell John Wyatt


The Call

Yesterday
it came—
a large, white envelope,
In it a letter
signed by the hand of a prophet.
I could have run to the highest mountain
and shouted my happiness to the world,
But volumes could not express enough joy.
Today:
Testimony meeting,
And I can only say,
I thank you, Lord.
I hear the call.
I come.

Love Is a Growing Thing

Love,
I know,
Is a growing thing.
If it is well,
It will swell
Like the bud
Of an apple
Bent on harvest.
But even now
Love crowds me.
From my heart out
I am filled
Clear through.
If this eager love
Grows, then—
I must grow too.

First Year

Strange
To be away
From parent sounds
And the feel of childhood.
Fun
To find the college
Dorm has so many
Friendly doors.
Good
To have letters in the mailbox:
They miss me,
They know I’m fine,
They’re sending cookies soon.
Scary
To be making so many
Decisions affecting my future.
Thankful
To have brought
Prayer
As a permanent roommate.

[photo] Photo by Paul Proctor