James Matthew Wilson

Corpus Christi Procession in a Rainstorm

The priest, with veil around him

   And mittening both hands,

Will sweep the monstrance up

   As sacred law commands.

But as he does, he wrings

   An eyebrow toward the sky;

Winds circle through his cope

   And puff the lacy ply.

Then, clouds bear down like boulders

   Dislodged from hidden crags,

While gusts across the churchyard

   Tatter small, planted flags.

Yet off they go, processing

   Beneath rain lashed in cords,

With widows, cripples, drunks

   Who’ve joined the chanting hordes.

Rain falls on those who came

   With missals open wide

And bow ties primly straightened

   To show they’re on God’s side.

It falls on those who came,

   Not knowing what they’d done,

Embarrassed to slip out,

   Now that the priest’s begun.

The flood would drown their prayer,

   Would make their dimanches cloy,

And chase them to that oak tree

   Which lightning shall destroy.

But sodden, without wavering,

   The priest beneath his tent

Will finish out his duty

   Although the skies are rent.

James Matthew Wilson is the author of fifteen books, including his most recent book of poems, Saint Thomas and the Forbidden Birds (Word on Fire, 2024).