When I feel,
That I don’t fit,
Into the world’s
Broad view,

There is a place,
Where I go sit,
Reflecting on
What’s true.

It isn’t soft.
It isn’t warm.
And in the dirt
It grew,

Just like the cross,
From trees of earth…
It is the
Wooden pew.

JMJ
Long-Skirts
5/16/06