Old Country Church

Some pondered ways to pep-up the pulpit and pew, but disinterest and ennui won the day. The clergy went away to get help and never came back. Eventually, thunder and sleet cracked stone, spire, and gable; neglect, and the cold winds of time nibbled at arch and buttress. Where once was a stained-glass light, weeds and mildew weathered to a moldy rot. Where once the hems of cassocks swept now mice and spiders rest or nest, and baby bats roost in the rectory. There In a dusty belfry owls hoot and solemnly perch. Walls crumbling to niche and cranny. Amid all this spacy ruin jackdaws lay their speckled eggs, while in the misty moonlight homeless angels dance upon feather-light, slinky legs.