After we younglings
in choir loft
intone our last song
close our hymnals
we wander down uneven steps
kneel beside statues
lit with flickering candles
burning with intention
melting — so silent
smell dripping wax
just listening
After awhile
a few fidget — wiggle
reinvent — disappear
to backyard tree forts
Box Car adventures
rowdy hop-scotch
follies that bedevil
But the rest of us — silent
innocent wonder
not even a fragment
of hymn begs attention
the rest of us
so quiet — are here
kneeling between
the shallows of the mind
and the deep connection
to the unknown
just listening
