Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

                                Face Masks and Hippie Hymns

At Mass I breathe behind and through a mask
My custom still, one of the paper-faced few
Although one might with some good reason ask
If it serves much purpose in a crowded pew

Each humid exhalation clouds the lens
Of my eyeglasses so I can’t even read
But I’m sure I know how each lesson ends
Needless to say I’ve memorized the Creed

And to mask those sandwich hymns:

I make hidden faces when the soloist croons
Another of those awful hippie tunes

(Has anyone told the music director that the 1960’s are over?)