After Mass

Not too attentive,
months pass,
I hear bells
announcing Mass's end.
Cars scrurry in the dark,
I arrive, kneel
in the back,
and feel softness, light
half shadowed on
stainglass.
Candles are removed,
three challises
embraced by nuns
servants of the Lord,
will be polished
protected.

Laywomen,
delicately tend
to alter vespers,
linens cover
the Alter, God's dwelling
place, folded patiently
to be laundered, pressed.

Christians felt The Holy Spirit.
God
The Father,
The Son
The Holy Spirit
brush near me
breathe in joy,
watching me
watch them.