An odd week. I bought a hat;
drank (and regretted) coffee cocktails;
woke early; took some notes.

– You turned out
to be a pair, delighting jaded friends,
who thought they’d seen it all, with proof
that sane integrity and kind courageous faith
could meet, and love, making this grim world shine. –

– He died –
too soon, too young,
the long-scarfed curate of my student days,
a good man, barely touching half
the psalmist’s grudging limit, that fiery Petertide.
(Queues of black-stoled priests, damp-footed,
blotting the nave, distraught
as any of the rest of us) –

– It didn’t, couldn’t, last. But those
brief moments, tangents to eternity,
shine out, show heaven, close enough to see
what might be, even so.

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