Pigeon In The Loft

Sweet Cantor, in the choir loft
up there, high up there,
cantata height, like a
note, musical, quivering
quavering, soprano-ing,
gripping the golden rail with your
tiny little hand,
'Che gelida manina'.

Your left hand gripping the notes,
your right eye on the priest
down below, your eyrie,
your perch, your caged bird perch,
swinging your notes Callas-like,
Mozart-like, your gestalt,
like a swell on the wave
of Taize, 'remember me,
when you come into your kingdom'.

How could He not remember you?
Perched up there aloft with the organist,
quivering, quavering, savoring that
last note.

With diction, pert,
shimmering, quavering, quivering,
like a response, five times to the psalm,
up there in the loft, perched, a canary,
sweetly, singing,
'O Vale of Avoca,
remember me,
when you come
into your kingdom'.