The bold young blonde preaches in the pulpit.
Her voice echos through the upper room,
witty words, inspiring ideals
floating into young hearts
The evening sermon spills over crowded spirits.
Soon, it softens into humming
as my thoughts float.
The bold young blonde preaches on
but the sermon I hear comes from
in the babble
and sounds of triumph
breaking through the mouth of the baby
on his mother’s lap
in the last pew
in the back of the upper room.
And I think this sermon is beautiful
and I wonder
where else the sermon streams:
In the soft curl of burgundy hair
spilling down that woman’s back;
In the humming of the vents overhead,
the darkening of the sky around us,
the music in my warm heart, beating.
This evening sermon makes me smile.