This Sunday Evening

wherein the afterglow of worship,
like love lingering teasing exhaustion 
but for the grace and beauty ravished
by devotion now slightly seducing 
the moment into remembered 
continuance so now is not forgotten. 
So the failing light sets the mood
of the seen  nearly unseen, 
the touched nearly untouched 
and the holy of holies revealed 
for what it is  -- that kiss upon the heart,
O my love.  

-Byron Hoot