Evening has fallen.
The once brightly coloured stained glass windows
of the chapel are now dark as molasses.
They are so dark they almost look sticky and sweet.
What if they are, and this is actually a giant gingerbread house?
I ponder breaking off a piece to taste it,
the sugarcane windowpane…
but then the cold night air would come rushing in,
smelling of starlight and snow
and possibly followed by the large nose of a black bear,
snuffling about and eager to lick the molasses windows
with his long, wet tongue.
Even if we all rushed off to bed,
the bear could eat his way in,
then wander about the place,
leaving a trail of muddy paw prints
and crushed leaves and little bits of cedar
and a scent like the memory of late summer blackberries
coming from this large furry living thing
prowling about indoors,
who is not normally meant to be there…
On second thought,
I suppose I won’t try tasting the windows, after all.
(PS Thanks for the great bear pic, Four States News!)
