I stand outside and lean upon
the doorjamb, looking in, observing
all the books of those long dead
who walked with God and lived pure lives.

I step inside; my hands are clean,
and sunlight streams through windows wide
onto the lightly colored floors
composed of wood, lines straight and strong.

On bottom shelf, the first of six
large books, composed of many pages
written by a man in Dartmouth
from sixteen fifty-six to sixteen

ninety-one at his own risk,
as England’s church desired to bring
ev’ry church under its law.
He loved his flock too much to care.

I sat upon the wooden floor,
a blanket ‘round my shoulders (it
was cold that day), my phone and Bible
near, John Flavel in my hand.

I read from Proverbs eight verse thirty,
saying, “Then I was beside Him,
like a master workman, and I
was daily His delight, rejoicing

before Him always,” about Christ
and God, existing together
before creation of the world,
existing as one in perfect joy,

together loving and choosing me
before I knew myself at all,
Christ offering Himself for rescue
before the sins of Eve were done.