by Rob Goodale
No polyphonic chant or tinkling piano
which can as adequately capture
the gratitude buried deep within
tired and aching human bones
compared to the roaring cacophony
of pages flipping and
pencils scribbling and
(best of all)
stomachs churning
which splashes onto the cozy backdrop of silence
as we sit together on the floor
gathered around the shiny brass box
concealing the Life of the World
in the corner of the room,
and it makes me smile.
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