Poetry

The farm wife shares her view on windows in the new sanctuary

 

Some members are voting for clear glass
while others believe frosted would be nicer.
I prefer a view of Ed Troyer’s cows
and a way to survey the sky. It gives me pause
to think of everyone in the same room
with no way to look out and no sunlight
crossing the pews. Call the outside a distraction,
but I’d rather pray with the Amish in a barn,
the big door flung open and swallows with forked
tails, darting in and out. I’m saying this softly
because even Mennonites who favor clear glass
might see some taint of worldliness, unsettling
as the stained glass in the old sanctuary
when it was Methodist. Sam Troyer, Ed’s father,
loaded those windows on a wagon headed
for the dump, but he took a wrong turn.
No one in LaGrange County has a prettier barn
than Ed’s—you should see the milking parlor,
how lilies of the field hold the light.