I am sitting in a church porch
Waiting for the service to finish
It is not that I have abandoned my beliefs
I was just late in my arrival
The grey flagstones in front of me
Have been worn smooth with age
And are pleasant to look at and gently touch
Beyond the porch I can see the neat gravestones
Arranged in ordered avenues of total peace
The bleached blonde grasses are now almost hidden
By the towering trees first planted during
The now neglected restoration years
These are the long dry summer days so beloved
Everything seems to be at peace
And the muffled interior hymns
Float within the stillness of the morning air without fading