My grotto is invisible
embedded in a cloud,
bejeweled by blue lobelia
of Aves prayed aloud.
Festoons of Pater Nosters
drape the facade of stone,
while litanies of dittanies
bloom for God alone.
My rosaries and blessings blend
in a galaxy of paints,
enriching every statue niche
are shadow souls of saints.
A dawning skyline blossoms with
Our Lady's veil of blue,
as happy answers to my prayers
drop down in angel dew.
-- by Pete Voelz 12/04
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