maybe we will remember one day far from all this
how we lived on golden cornbread crumbs in a manner of speaking
and oh how you multiplied them without our even asking
so that each crumb became a loaf. each loaf an entire bakery.
who are you Lord God that from such small quantities can make a feast
so that all weeping turns overnight to flowers
so that we gather in an explicable harvest
a plenitude of stars.
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