Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Generations (Susan)

These permanencies remain.
Arched windows
Through which the browned leaf
Reflects the end of season.

Soft swell of music from
Antiphonal choirs faced off
Across the church loft.

The transient put aside
Here by the altar
Where I place myself
Midway between two voices
Heard as one.

Some sat here other Sundays
Took bread and wine
Witnessed marriage
Mourned the departed

Like Clara Stevens
Laid to rest in 1926
With thanks
For fifty selfless years
Of teaching Sunday school.

The choirmaster claps hands
In the loft above.

”Start again at letter C.
There’s time
Before the audience arrives
To do it right.”

–Susan Schefflein
Draft © 2005 S. Schefflein All Rights Reserved.


Susan said...

I wrote this one Sunday when my husband was rehearsing for a concert at the old Reformed Church in Tappan, NY. What a rich tradition - simply years and years of experience in that place.

Susan said...

As you will note, I have been busy this evening.

And now there is nothing hanging out there without a comment.

Good night and good luck.

Anonymous said...


Your comments are always welcomed and insightful.
I like the way you end this and other poems with a soft punch.