8. Bells chime a call to worship
to empty pews echoing the song of trees.
7. I’m sorry I keep taking the same path,
the same images do not grow weary of me noticing.
I pick gardenias from CeCe’s side yard.
If she came out, she wouldn’t mind.
6. I stop at Anne’s to view her century plant as it reaches
skyward. A century plant waits 25 years to bloom,
blooming only once in a lifetime. A lifetime
I took for granted only weeks ago.
5. I can take my time.
No one will call to check on me.
I’ll check the feeders:
the hummingbirds like sweet water.
I’ll get to it in time.
4. I walk and walk
wondering if it will always be this way.
Hollow bells pealing for no one.
No one venturing out to see anyone.
3. It may rain tomorrow. Today,
the sun shines, the birds sing,
and I don’t have to join the chorus.
I’ll keep singing to myself.
2. A link was sent by email
to a video church service, one priest, one reader.
The organist plays
as though the cathedral is full.
Full feels scary now.
Full carries weight.
Who wants to be full?
1. I close this book,
heat another cup of tea,
and find my shoes,
find my way,
fill my day.