The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 8/2/09

[BlueIris]

"A Sunday Service"

Outside on the front porch
of the Lutheran church
after altarlight and supplicant sopranos fade,
we men shake hands, smoke, talk
momentarily immune
from Hell, damnation and the county agent.
Later, when it's cool and dusky
we will roll up our Sunday sleeves,
drink beer & toss horseshoes.

Each ungainly arc will be a silent parable:
ascension, declension, the ultimate tumble.
Each near miss will be a thumping sermon
on the beaten path
taking back its own
& sing Hosannah!
Each ringing chime will be a carillon
petitioning the gods of likelihood.
We won't be keeping score--who gets to go to Heaven.
Who is only close.

~David Johnson

[Tuesday Afternoon]

1. very nice.

thanks.

[BlueIris]

2. Thanks, Tuesday. nt

[CaliforniaPeggy]

3. My dear BlueIris!

Oh, I like this...

The Sunday Service, from the POV of a man.

It's a door opening into his mind.

Thank you!

:hi:

[BlueIris]

4. We aim to please.

Hope you are feeling better.