Ode to the Sunlight on a Church Pew

At times I am stirred to regret

The tenuous threads in my strings of logic,

Those points where intellectual rigor has failed

Or merely, perhaps, fallen asleep.

Shamefaced, I admit, I hold too loosely

To the strict principles, those straight-backed chairs

With their unyielding seats, upon which I fidget and shift,

And let slip the patient persistence

Of a mind habituated to careful discipline and slow thought.

But there is a sunlit corner even for such a one as I,

Where, sitting humbly, slightly hunched, in stillness

I cup my warm palms like psalms of adoration

Around the feathered creatures with their quick-beating hearts.

The heart yearns as the mind yearns:

To hold the beautiful mystery thus, and share

This fragile, winged child of heaven

Come down to us in the form of a sacred word.