Bush church of my childhood: wait server and priest
In vestry small with vestment-chest of oak,
White robes laid out immaculately creased,
Christ’s purity, and his mother’s, evoke.
The albs are bordered in fine crafted lace,
Stole and chasuble crisply ironed arraying,
Emptied of sound, in silence of place
The server hears his predecessors praying.
Inside the small church a reed organ’s sound,
On, into the sanctuary the server leads on,
He bashful bows deep then processes round,
He offers water and wine: the Dreaming’s white swan.
My mother and grandma with pride are stilled;
They watch from the pews the now and the willed.
- Malachi 3:1-4,
- Psalm 84,
- Luke 2:22-40
In Native American stories, Dragonfly persuades the Swan to surrender to the power of the river so that she can, in a state of grace, be taken into the future. (http://www.swansongs.org/who-we-are/swan-mythology/)