Sunday, May 31, 2015

Sunday Morning

My 22 month old daughter gets restless in church
We walk out to the entryway
The hymns still audible
Though the father's voice is now muffled
The outer doors are glass
The sun of Sunday morning warm on our skin
She expresses joy as birds fly and land
On the church lawn
Carefree they search for food
As my daughter laughs and points
"Burds," she tells me
She looks at me to make sure I see
"Birds," I repeat back
She tries to follow one with her finger
as it takes flight
She turns to me again
Smiling she says, "burds"
But I hear the word joy

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