He stood before the mass, his church kinfolk,
Where he was nurtured since he grew a tooth,
The pews less filled, the church a cob-webbed booth.
"I have to share this now." And so he spoke.
His testimony flowed as it had done
So often at the congregation's ledge.
His words selected sweet with marbled edge,
The point he made, a fancy on the run.
But sober rang, an unexpected peace.
The laughter he had earned before, not there.
A silence, contemplation, eyes aware
Did meet his smile and turn it to a crease.
They wanted wisdom, now that he was old.
They wanted something sure and nothing bold.
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