Hallelujah

The cabin swayed and the morning put on a coat of many colors.

It was just like being in church, and it wasn't. It was as if the wind had blown the roof off, and that this was its purpose. First the roof, then the walls, then the new Sunday School built last spring.

One worshipper thought he'd gone crazy. Does there come a time when the mind is no longer interesting, when it is impossible to conceive of things concrete or abstract?

Another closed her eyes and made a prayer for those who lived on the other side of the mountain, near the wildfires, and for her baby granddaughters.

By this time they were both far from church, walking out in the wilds of Wyoming with their heads down, for the wind was still furious, picking up little stones they found, listening to the creek, throwing fallen cottonwood leaves up in the air to see how far the wind would take them.