For Saint Jim of the Homeless

I see you now and then
In the soup kitchen
Eating ice cream

With beatific bliss
And adding a prayer
during vespers,
For restored peace
In the park where strife
led to knife wounds
in the Forgotten.
Your grey beard and frazzled hair
Is a halo around a face weathered
by sun, and rain, and maybe Mother Gin
In a past and penanced life.
Your love is tender,
And particular and attentive;
the un-sentimental Love of God
For His children.