On the Church Wall Seat
Like aging geese that tuck their heads
under their wings, the dried out pair
prop canes beneath their arms and sit.
The village hustle and bustle sweeps
around the silent church, like tides
around a self-reflecting isle.
At siesta time the sea recedes
and leaves the dozing boyhood friends
more fully furrowed inside old age.
They are abandoned limpet shells
that slowly parch in noontime heat
and dream-remember other times.
The locked and barricaded church,
dark and no longer now in use,
contains a vast interior.
There they had lived out countless Sundays,
which still warm up those crooked backs
and keep sap trickling through their canes.
Publishing Credits, “On the Church Wall Seat”
Linkway, Burry Port, Carmarthenshire, England, 2008
By Anthony Walstorm