3 Stabs at Something Devotional
Easter best, spilling out of aisles into standing room,
arm-raising room, huge hugs and decorative hats.
The pastor looks extra sharp. The choir has extra soul.
The sun affirms our open curtains, congregation swelling
in warmth, enthusiasm, ties. All the common distractions remain,
when special music performs an original song in starched
whites, the repetitive end-rhymes with "Jesus"
get really silly really quickly, at least in my head.
Clouds break over Camano, Eagles wingspanning
through inspirational-poster sunscapes. If you could see these
trees, these-- the evergreens' warm stoicism, the cliffsedge chapel,
the quiet, the quiet
It takes so long to get to work.
Between the morning's panic,
arrival's realization that all attempts
at buttoned proffessionalism
is the cold trot up to the corner
breathing in my street, scuffing
gravel, taking my place to wait
between book-clutching kids
off to school and old men in
red-trimmed fedoras, tsking at their
watches but relaxed;