Puzzles

The journey West was crowded
as cars jostled for position
and the rain came with
leaden skies.

I am left with thoughts of a
poor and silent place,
cheerless, joyless, the drab
days end-to-end like a
grey rag.  Even the chapel
seemed to have bodies
buried underneath the sombre
marble.

Where do I go from here?
Not many houses left
of prayer and humility.
Maybe my spirit belongs
nowhere now, except among
the green of a northern
garden and delight
at the flitting birds, the
flashing squirrels, the
bright starlit night.

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