I always hated that window in my church.
The elders said we couldn't take it down
'It's pretty, priceless, and we can't give them away, '
But who wants a window that distorts the Trees, faces,
And dandelions in the breeze.
With yellows, purples, and blues,
Hard black lines that in anyone else's eyes is a work of art.
I don't need the work of a stranger's hands to distract me during church.
I only need the work of my savior
To preach to me when I search.