The Hills of Appalachia

The hills of Appalachia are wrinkled deep in time. Some points there, far from car-traveled road, you can’t get to from here. One Sunday, away from such roads, I saw in the morning mist a small cathedral cut in the hill’s rock. And, though you may think it just too much wine, I heard a schola choiring Palestrina above a congregation chanting along; either learning or spirit singing in pentecostal polyphony, I couldn’t tell.

This entry was posted in Church, Currents. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s