Sunday morning sermon blues
The
after hum of copper peal.
That
lingering draw of church bells,
once
at rest.
The
air is white with peace.
A
clear resonance for a moment,
before
the bleeding screams
of
gulls reach down.
The
ashen coke sky grey flecks,
matching
paper print on kitchen tops,
breakfast
spots on ironed shirt
and
soap tides on five years olds.
Sunday
welcomes all.
Come
repent your week's reliefs.
and
abide with countenance
of
the hallow’d smiles,
as
such warm beds are wasted,
to
such a waking hour.
Our
guilt played,
with
saintly pluck.
Bless
us all, each one.
Ranked
by ordained love.
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