Nunc Dimittis Poem by Peter Merrington

The animals brought in,
thin hands cleaned,
lamps lit. The table laid,
blinds drawn, feet washed,
petals swept off stone.
The heart held tight at sunset:
too much red above, the
sky done, blooded.
But waiting till you’ve gone, then
angels pass the bread, wine;
free smiles, easy breath,
crimson running west,
shared salt flowing,
wide grins and toasts,
a claret cup for great loving,
gusts of strong joy,
new candles wild in the dark.