The Sparrows of Dom St Peter
and post notes and photos about your poem like Debbie Guzzi.
Cobbled traces ankle-turn the December night,
hobbling church goer's on sleet-covered streets.
Lines of warblers rise at the sides,
confined side walkers avoid the car play.
Wet headed wanderers, at large in the dark,
set chill chapped hands to their wind-burned cheeks.
Off key, they carol from the quay to the close
Three Kings rings out joyous from post to lamp post.
Through honeyed light and the nave’s open door
to hear the Domspatzen, the church sparrows, sing.
Boys and young men porcelain in candlelight,
rois without queens, one race, one sex, employed.
Brilliant as finger rubbed glasses, they trill;
we're silent: in sound wrapped, close-eyed, waylaid.
Each dulcet tone blends with organ and bow
teaching church doctrine with tenor and alto.
Published by Page & Spine Winter 2016
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016