Raymond A. Foss Poems

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A burst of familiar motion
racing down from the chancel to my pew
A very serious angel
needing to go out of the sanctuary, urgently
a race in daddy’s hand down the center aisle
halo swaying and wings flapping
carrying her on the wings out into the narthex
a stop in the bathroom;
“Dad get my halo, it fell off!”
Blurted plea, exhortation
No time for your/my hand now,
plow through the ushers, blocking her path
race to her spot, wings and robes and hair
all flowing in the breeze, at full sprint
an urgent angel back in place
not missing a beat
joining the heavenly chorus
singing on cue

December 25, 2007

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