St. Bartholomew’s Glass Aviary
The day arrived feathered:
three dropped by tawny owl beside
the churchyard gate.
Non fictae —
they were real, they were rain-soft,
they were waiting.
And in the windows:
a tit with a cellarer’s dish,
girded in belt and ale-key bliss,
asks: “Who blameth this ale?”
An owl tolls a bell with his foot,
and the glass replies:
“We must pray for the fox.”
A hen in a hennin greetes richlynge greet.
She bows to the skull, who says nothing.
A sparrow in mail prays for the poure.
The mottoes molt, one into the next.
“At thy last ende,” warns the window.
“Say well, or be still,”
whispers the stitch.
“Make God thy frende,”
adjures the thread’s gold curve,
looped around the lion’s mane.
Et in avibus, veritas.
Even in birds, truth,
in yarn, gospel,
in jest, amen.
8 thoughts on "St. Bartholomew’s Glass Aviary"
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Amen.
An ekphrastic worthy of the praise,
silent and glowing though the praise be. As the light through soft window, as the church, as the supplication. Breathless, no words.
Again, let it be said on the steps,
“Even in birds, truth,
in yarn, gospel,
in jest, amen.”
thank you 🪶 🦉 🔔 🙏
Beautiful ekphrastic, thanks for sharing the image that inspired your lovely words.
thank you 🙏 such a cool, surprising little parish church — the kneelers based on the medieval windows blew my mind!
Delightful. Thanks for including the photo, and for the old English. Made me want to read the Canterbury Tales again.
thank you (Chaucer would approve of the windows if not my poem)
Gorgeous and glowing, I cannot get enough of your poetry!!!
One of my favorite lines:
‘girded in belt and ale-key bliss’
thank you, poet 🪶