by Pavel Chichikov
Like any spirit
Comes and goes –
From where to where
No one knows
The forest trail
On which I pass
In high October
Through stained glass
As day itself
Veils the altar,
As priestly monks
Sing the Psalter
Glory, glory
To God most high
And here on Earth
The leaves, the sky
(See Pavel's new book, Mysteries and Stations, here.)
