Nobody's going to Church these days. So I thought I'd better. Our nearest church is made of corrugated iron, but there are some really charming ones, and some of them really quite big, farther out.
140: Visitors’ Book
This little church is very nice.
It smells of candlesticks and mice,
Harvest and hymn books, hearts and flowers
With sermons that go on for hours
Or to a child they seem to do
As creaky as a Sunday shoe.
And listen! There, behind the wall
A blackbird and a bouncing ball,
And, like a buzzing in your head,
The earthy mutterings of the dead
Whose entourage of skulls and bones,
Far from the reach of mobile phones
Or wikileaks or cyberspace
Encourage us to pray for grace,
Knowing that God is in the house,
With moth and silverfish and louse.
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