So, in the spirit of One Bad Poem, here's one of my experiments. It corresponds to the Tomas Transtromer poem, "Slow Music," posted on April 6.
Beyond a garden of blossoming plum trees,
the cathedral's wide steps beckon. Narthex and nave,
a burden of old pews, a baptismal font ringed
by stained glass, sunlight blessing Jesus
blessing the children. Sometimes, out of nowhere
I recall standing as a child at the ocean,
digging my toes in, unable to hold my place on the earth,
tide tugging the sand from under me,
a pane of frothing water washing my bare feet.