fill Seattle's St. Marks
on Sunday night. Pure
notes echo high and low.
Peace washes over the
things that make us
different.
Full pews carry notes
along rows of vibrating
wood grain. The pipes
wait with lips quivering
to have their bellies
filled with breath.
Ivory waits for hands
to caress the keys.
Pedals long for dancing
feet. Organs have a heart
too. Evensong ends.
Organ music commences.
