6074. MY SHARE IS PERPETUAL

MY SHARE IS PERPETUAL

So sings the church on the corner, so sings the

knave in the loft : choirspeak and every stupid

thing alike. In the evenings, a painted-purple

dove of night descends, something like a

darkness, with amends, and runs the sainted

street straight on. People stop to see what

goes, cock their ears to hear the sounds.

'My share is perpetual', they think they

hear it said. Later, at dawn when all the

new cars come by, no one can recognize

where they had been : seen dropping off 

people, seen picking up workers, builders,

mechanics, angels and serfs. What strange

world and land is this, where God is

still addressed as 'Lord', as if it were

800 A.D.? If the share is perpetual,

then we should just let it be.