Felt
Board
In Sunday school we strained
to hear sandals
scraping stone
the
snap and crackle of kindling
echo of gospel
songs sung
in three part
harmony
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego
overlays free
floating
smiles all around, fronting
a fiery furnace
more
beehive than crematorium
Nebuchadnezzar scowling
from the
soft verge of his velvet palace
hush of orange aloe leaves
licking the
bare pink
feet of an angel hovering over
the muffled bliss of a July morning.
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