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PANORAMA
Thru walls of pitch, she saw the bush,
Drenched in Holy living fire;
God's voice intoned the requisite,
No shoes would favor His desire.
Thru walls of pitch, she saw the mount,
With Holy canopy of cloud;
Etched stones, held the Decalogue,
Above the calf and murmuring crowd.
Thru walls of pitch, she saw a rod,
Life, enveloped in a brunch;
A serpents, yet a rod again,
To vanquish foes of Pharaoh's stance.
Thru walls of pitch, she saw a mail,
Enraptured by a babe in ark;
Perception of a precious Hope,
Her son, within, had reached the mark.
-Elizabeth Wallace Morehead-
Copyright owned by the
Wallace and Morehead
families.
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