rjs2

UNSUNG HYMN

Young Sister Celina flashes by

on her antique Schwinn,

gears and chain a nest of bees,

her habit is hiked up,

two loaves of French bread

on the chrome carrier.

After her fast passing,

the wind that chases behind

is like the last note

of a piano key held,

a verse that resonates

from a boyhood hymn

kept holy and hidden inside,

recalled by the closure of eyes,

the pull of a single deep breath.