The Meeting

You’d think it was the market place
With all the hubbub of hellos and how are you,
Hand-shaking and hugging as signs of peace;
Catch-up conversation and laughter,
Music-stand clatter and steel-heel clicking,
Until suddenly the leaders appear
And the solemnity of hushed silence descends
In expectation of truth when the Book is opened.
So a pin drops from sermon notes
As the trombone stands for the beginning
Of silent night on a noisy morning
Hoping all will become calm.
And the congregation focuses its mind
On the One who arrived unnoticed for the meeting.
December 2011