Half-uncial script letters almost as tall as my thumb the same thumb that drew a Cross with Holy Water on an infant’s forehead this morning. As our Savior wrote that blessing I was His pen
This fine quill still has every fiber in its charcoal gray and black hawk feather although Father Benedict fashioned it sixty years ago. Nightly I tuck it into an ash-wood box softened with wool
A silver blade slices a sliver from the pinion’s end to form a new nib someday the shaft will be too short to hold ink. Like my body this pen will die but not its words
Goat vellum trips my hand where the goat’s hair grew the word Dominus spatters over Diabolus on the line above. I smile to see Lord subduing Devil then with the blade I scrape off the imperfection
Pounded gold thinner than skin to beautify the text to glorify our God. I cut the foil to fit the first letter of the First Psalm B for Beatus blessed, like me Published October 5, 2019 on the Ancient Paths Facebook page.