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A Betrayal

You’re quick to call it a betrayal,
a shift in mood, an aural metempsychosis,
like a fly granted liberties from the spider’s web
or the deep reaching up to catch wayward shadows
pilgrims on an avenue of light.

While a plain, encircled by mountains,
sheltered from smoky winds creeping eastward,
harbors thoughts of sprouting hills or bristling trees,
and gathers its courage, trembling heavenward,
with prayer clasped hands and daylight vigils.

The sinners in the pews sing ancient hymns,
agitating their present states of distress.