CHURCH:

 

Rhythm of a washing machine with kettle hissing, birdsong and 

the clicking of house bones settling after frenzied 

morning preparations. Bags packed, music prepped, a note book 

& pen. Following blacktop snakes to the station in the low glow 

of a gold morning sun. Ride the steely twins to the city of dreams,

catch stories with an empty page, an eye on the sky, foot tapping 

to the rhythm of fields as they slip past in fresh Spring livery.

A whispered ‘thank you’ below the rumble of the wheels, 

the roll of the carriage, no one noticed, pre-ocupied by 

conversation & transient titillation, flirting with the darkness 

in the daily news. I look into the light & smile, it’s been a while

since I inhabited your alleys.  

 

(K)