miracles

Miracles

The church, in my town, is the only
building made of stones, the rest are
made of perishable timber

The statue of Jesus by the alter, is of
a blond, young man dressed in gold,
as are his mates, angles on the walls.

Once I found a coin on the church’s
floor I had gone in since it was cold
outside and I had little money.

I closed my eyes, asked God what to
do, pocket or collection box? There
was, I tell you, only a solemn silence

Put the coin in my pocket, together
with fluff and loose change, I had
enough for a big glass of foamy beer.