In the nave

smoke swings from the chain

a priest chants his name

and children sing

Hallelujah! Hosanna to the highest! under windows, beautifically stained.

Each head bows hesitant, penitent, full of doubt.

Gloria, in excelsis deo!

fills the chapel with voices driven

by what's revealed

as pure emotion from the pews, the wood still glowing

from polish applied the previous evening. From above

(though that is a convenient dictum)

a spirit comes to join all the kneeling,

restless children, silent men

and silent women, their pious, unseeing eyes pointed away from the ceiling.

In the hush before repentance is accepted,

in the youngest faces

a dove makes its apearance

wings full spread, offering

a Christmas Eve benediction. Later, mourning will fill them with passion when they return to lives lived in other locations, on other occasions.

But for now, peace, that most joyous illusion,

deserves to keep them

omniscient

for one winter's segment,

for one simple season before it must leave them.