Outside St. Francis Church

I am frequently early, which means I often have time to linger, or wander, or just sit and observe. Today’s draft comes from a moment of lingering at an old church on the way from one destination to another. This is an attempt to get to one of my favorite kinds of poems — the kind where attention and noticing something small and simple connects us to something larger.

The day glows red in every line in my face.

Red in skin, red in eyes,

A single copper red hair at my temple just above my right eye.

I knelt in the sun-warmed courtyard of the church of St, Francis

Next to a grasshopper of a green rarely seen in the Midwest.

Sun. Mud. Voices of a young couple sitting on the shaded bench.

Myself and the grasshopper gathering red sun

Before plunging into the dark, cool sanctuary

To spread the day's delights at the feet of all the saints.