She neatly fits over the others, small
To large or large to small, Matryoshka doll,
The first of all, our Mother, her great call
Long ago in a small home cross the knoll.
Change occurred, her baby grew, broke the thrall
Of the devil’s hold, lies, and life of loll
Of those to be counted in Caesar’s poll,
The Lord in her womb, the Counter of all.
Her spiritual children contained within
Poured forth and multiplied with Him, Christ King,
The right hand of God, through Him and in Him.
With right worship and praise the people sing:
To raise families; to give; and abhor sin;
To bring fruit of good work on the Dove’s wing.
Gary Edward Geraci