congregation of one

with a steady wind
at about five knots
out of the south,
even the gulls are happy
on this bright, sunny
Sunday, sun-day morning,
which finds him rising early
as he has done
most every sun-day
of his life -- even the ones
that weren't --
and driving to the old church --
1827, to be precise --
and unlocking the door,
turning on the lights,
taking his place
in the front row,
hands clasped tightly:
quietly, reliably,
waiting.



May 31, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.