Sunday Service

I saw old autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence. (Thomas Hood)

 Autumn mornings with Duncan in the park, empty and serene, are my church. The silence is tremendous before the bird chorus begins, as though the parishioners have just taken their seats and settled in, the last of the groans and whimpers of the pews beneath their weight fading away. The leaves, vibrant and violent in their last dying, are like stained glass above us and I know there are no moments as precious as these, as gentle on my thoughts and as rewarding to my spirit. The soft pad of Duncan's feet on the grass and the musical staccato of the leaves on the ground as he passes through them are my psalms, and after all the years have passed their quiet melody will echo in my heart and bones and will be all the salvation I need.