My kitchen window looks out on a church. At this hour, it is baked in sunlight and glowing a nice rust color between reds and browns. There are several long windows that glow blue and yellow when the church is alive past dark. Its tower is red again, with open windows displaying a large brass bell, and the cerulean sky again. Then, a green sharp cone atop the steeple and a beautiful bright cross as tall as anything I can see. Red, then blue.
The autumn winds roll leaves along the alley, and my weary soul dreads with its humanness. Breaths, settling. I clasp my hands and gaze at the warm church and pray with the big blue sky.
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