Winter sunlight glances down through bare trees,
Planted row on row in an effort
To brighten a gray city.
It flows gently across the fake Gothic buildings,
With their imported gargoyles,
And occasional stained glass windows.
My eyes are drawn to a small chapel,
Resting, almost hidden, in the center of the rather bleak campus,
Whose blue-green windows, surrounded by ivy, glow in the sun.
And at the end of a long day,
With all the pressure and troubles of living…
There comes a moment of peace.
January 21, 1992