Beauty about
There are days
Of unbridled praise
Rare they are
Usually for the more
Outspoken among us
Feigned perhaps in
Pentecostal like pews
Learned from watching
Others raise the limbs
In the quiet traces
Far from the steepled
Central places
There comes a steady
Form of praise
Not showy or glib
For men’s approval
Oh look how holy he be
But quietly
Low enough that all
It takes is but a puff
To mingle with the
Angels above.
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