7:15 on a Sunday evening
7:15 on a Sunday evening
Sparrows abdicate a sunny throne
Chattering Coyotes scan the field
Church doors are locked
The swirling scent of incense settles
Cold winds whistle ‘round the steeple
A lone bat hangs idle in the belfry
An old woman walks her dog
Stops to admire the majestic locked doors
Wonders why Sunday evening is so different
Than Sunday morning
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