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