Apostles

Breathes of once tsunamis
These men neatly lined up
in deck chairs

Chasing a sunset with faded eyes
Still have the whiff of adventure
In them

Something of God’s power
In the rearranging and arranging hands
End clasped over folded scripture

Then head bowed in something more than sleep
A refrain raises
A whisper of all the thoughts of a great man
The weather turns
For such as them

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