The Hayloft Always Feels Like Church

Spring in The Cathedral

New leaves yellow-green

turned over against warm, steel-grey sky

Opening the rose window of the loft door,

I find sanctuary from a baptism of rain.

Dewlap-clad gospel singers

gobble their praise of the weather as

the congregation skitters on paws;

flutters on bat-wings;

spins on eight legs;

stomps their hooves

Munching a liturgy of fragrant, green Host

they snort a benediction to May’s altar wine

I inhale alfalfa’s incense sharing their sweet sacrament

Here there is no Hell below

Only, ascension on horse feathers.

–Photo & Poem by Rebecca L. Fox

This entry was posted in creativity, photography, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s