As the sun set, I sat in the back pew
and nodded off to the sound of him practicing the organ.
Occasionally he shook me into consciousness
with a chord that made the floorboards tremble,
and towards the end we both sang to the hymns,
our voices carrying over the flood of those towering pipes.
I swear the angels joined us,
first curious as to the commotion
that no doubt floated up to their doors,
then sharing in the sheer purity,
notes clear and sharp as glass bells signaling the new day.
By that time, our earthly voices had begun to fail us,
struggling for each new verse,
but they only strengthened in sound until
we could not tell where ours ended and theirs began.