Old Church
I've watched the isles at dusk
Cool and mysterious they lie--
Where old and deep-boughed cedars
heave, as gleaned from a cloudscape
on earth's threadbare attic,
While lines of faded stars
slip into gauzy white--
to appear like brushed, eerie ghosts
on howling psalms that sought
the need to settle in the vault
of an empty, ruined church.
Brian's Select 4
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