Song

Sitting in the sanctuary,
I close my eyes;
Anticipating the rush of song,
that is sure to come.
Right on cue,
The choir starts singing.
My skin tingles as a soprano
soars up to an exceptionally high note,
And as a bass,
goes so low;
The room seems to vibrate.
Estatic, I lean back futher, half asleep.
I am suddenly jolted from my reverie by the
sound of thuderous applause.
The concert is over.
I struggle to my feet clumsily,
Joining into the clapping.
Single-file we leave the church, each lost
in our own thoughts,
Each stirred by the beautiful songs.