The Preacher

His shivering, cerulean eyes view empty space with attention,
then wander from one trifle to the next
glancing at once-white paper,
now soiled with graphite.

He holds the trembling sheet to the stale light
of a sinking candle,
straining
          to understand.

     Grasping the meaning of the sermon
     requires more than he can muster.

without knowing
he writes
letting his eyes 
          gaze at words,
perfectly connected
by shaky fingers clinging to a pencil stub

and his eyes begin to fade,
releasing images of 
     paragraphs
being written by cold fingers moving 
still.