The Cathedral

Magpie Tales-Tess Kincaid

cold, stone cold

doors large enough

for horses and carriages  

pray in your coach option 
for the aristocracy

the scent of beeswax

smoldering prayers

woolen coats, mittens

for the common folk
sore knees, frozen noses

organ sounds and crystal voices

piercing the nave
images in glass
reminding the sinners
of the possibilities