Closing her eyes she can feel the centuries layered into the walls of the ancient church. Standing by a BREAK in the wall, a SALTY tear rolls down her cheek. How many bones broke to build this monument to faith? How many PAINS were endured by workers and their families? Who stood by the stone MASON and directed his work? Who determined when it was sufficient to honor the glory of kings and bishops?

Georg’ann

AFTER the quiet, more quiet
an expanse of stillness.
Only a few birds chirping
and an occasional gurgle from the refrigerator.

Hesitant to move lest I disrupt
this equilibrium.
Breathing carefully, allowing silent expansion.

Working on a puzzle, nothing PLAIN to my eye, very few distinctions
among a thousand bits of black and beige.
Another expanse, less soothing
if in a mode for completion.
Which I am not
today.

Next door trash is piled high in a WAGON,
the MASON has left for the day.

In this is everything.
Leave the debris.
No more building.
Quiet, more quiet
Expand in stillness.

Heather