Miracles Poem by jan oskar hansen

Miracles

The church, in my town, is the only
building made of stones, the rest are
made of perishable timber

The statue of Jesus by the alter, is of
a blond, young man dressed in gold,
as are his mates, angles on the walls.

Once I found a coin on the church’s
floor I had gone in since it was cold
outside and I had little money.

I closed my eyes, asked God what to
do, pocket or collection box? There
was, I tell you, only a solemn silence

Put the coin in my pocket, together
with fluff and loose change, I had
enough for a big glass of foamy beer.