Poem: Where the Preacher Worships

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Where the Preacher Worships

Church is done. The hymns are sung.
The sermon was good enough
they will keep you another week.
You never know, maybe the words
touched someone, changed someone.
It happens.

The prayers have been prayed,
together and in the course of your calling.
And then, fellowship and coffee in equal measure,
a gathering of the sinners refueled, refocused
for the week, hopefully strengthened just enough
to get through the week to come.

And now it is your turn to worship,
a long walk in the wilderness that surrounds you.
The wind sings softly as God speaks.
The sky as wide as love when love is true,
and strong, and full of magic.
You breathe it in, sure there is scripture in this,
the air around you, the green, the wildness.

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