seldom are my worship sessions
few are the days of praise I yearn for
but my spirit dances on
begrudgingly between sacraments
woefully unsure of which will be it’s last
graciously open to yet another baptism
prayerfully longing for hours at the altar
playfully pining to rest on the pews
green stained glass eyes watch my celebration of this temple and the god it was built to observe
it’s you