Little Chapel in Wall Drugs, South Dakota

A rosette window and cross
above the altar
Tonka pounding across
the wooden floors like the prairie.
I hear the Bison still--
pine ceiling with its knotholes
too small to fit through for a sinner
but perfect for a red-headed woodpecker.
 
Yellow walls of bricks that cool
like buckskin, a wooden bench
to sit on while I'm resting, praying
relief from the heat of the leathery sun,
my heart beating its tom-tom.
I've come to feel some calm
for here, I don't feel so small.