Mud sucking at bare feet,
St. Francis walks the rain
around Assisi. Tattered
brown flag more naked than naked,
his white shivering skin
flashes with life as green as
the grass that time of year.
And the water washes
over him, brown seed,
bursting into flower among
the stones of San Damiano.

STEVE HARRIS is a paralegal for the U.S. Department of the Interior in Washington, D.C. He writes poetry in the predawn hours before his sons, ages 6 and 3, get up.

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