The Church Mouse
When most are seated in the hall,
She shuffles, unseen, to the rear.
Her place: a corner near the wall
In silence -- where no one will hear.
The banquet starts with pomp and grace:
A procession for all to see.
Yet church mouse remains in her place,
Waiting for crumbs so patiently.
With precision and mastery,
The Pastor carves and serves the Word.
The church mouse, in her poverty,
Gulps down the scraps as they are heard.
The next course is the bread and wine,
Prepared before the guests at hand.
As they're transformed to the Divine,
The church mouse waits without demand.
As guests are served the precious Fare,
The church mouse is the last in line.
Her heart is poor: empty and bare.
She takes her fill of the Divine.
The banquet ends; the guests depart.
The church mouse sees them shuffle past.
She ponders, with love in her heart:
The Master says: "The first are last!"
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(1) Matthew 5:3
(2) Luke 14:7-11
