After we younglings
in choir loft
intone our last song
we close our hymnals
wander down uneven steps
kneel beside statues
lit with flickering candles
burning with intentions.
so silent
just listening
smell dripping wax
After awhile
a few fidget
wiggle up
disappear
to backyard
tree forts
Box Car children
adventures
rowdy
hop-scotch
But the rest of us
so silent,
not even a fragment
of hymn begs attention
But the rest of us
so quiet
are here
still listening
