Adobe Church Poem by Norm Rourke

It sits off the Ruidoso highway
that takes skiers and campers in season,
White washed adobe, red tile roof
and bell that tolls parishioners to prayer.
Sainted stain glass windows flash
rainbow colors from pure sunlight.
The frocked padre blesses holy water and the poor box.
A bare path winds through the resting dead
to the ancient door.
Ava Marias echo off walls and
the Twelve Stations.
Forgiveness prayers from the kneeling
offered before the body and blood,
Worship ritual unchanged from centuries,
Gives hope to those with little,
Except in this hallowed place.