The Building Begins

Beautiful Francis alone on a hill
He heard the call to build
He worked alone in the winter chill
A pledge that must be fulfilled
Barefoot in the snow
His fingers worked to the bone
The spirit dream must grow . . .
He bent to pile the stone
Sister Sun, My Sister Moon
You build with words not stone
Get me a cell and a line to the muse
You shall not build alone


Edwina Peterson Cross