cold, stone cold
doors large enough
for horses and carriages
pray in your coach option
for the aristocracy
the scent of beeswax
smoldering prayers
woolen coats, mittens
sore knees, frozen noses
for the common folk
organ sounds and crystal voices
piercing the nave
images in glass
reminding the sinners
of the possibilities
Joan Tucker
Posted over on her site A Wild Patience
Listed as #14 over on Magpie Tales 45
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