I walked by my local Episcopal
on a daily path that serves penance
for the ten years of driving
to wait ten minutes for the bus.
As I passed the arched windows
I stopped to contemplate the statue
of Jesus and then my receding hairline.
This is my humility.
Sending my hands wringing
through a primeval forest of anger
Why are there no bells on modern churches?
with their ringing holy recitation.
The angelic singing reminds us of vespers.
Today they are but whispers.
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