…seeing we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, generic let us run with patience the race … Hebrews 12:1

11 enters, decked in drifting mist. Unsmiling pilgrim, somber faced and gray, It does not know- or care – that on this day Some call to mind the often nameless list

Of saints and martyrs who have gone before. The faithful gather at each hallowed shrine To sing their hopeful hymns of those who shine In glory on some other, better shore.

But in this quiet place no chants or prayers Rise up. I sit alone where, row on row, A silent cloud of witnesses looks on. Another sort of sanctity is theirs: The sometimes skeptic wisdom that they sow Shall still bear fruit, though they are long since gone.