In an impossibly
old French chapel

where the altar is
arrayed with candles

and with fairy-lights,

Angéline and two other

humans (male) sit
chanting Lokah

samastha sukhino
bhavantu for more

than a dozen minutes
as a shruti box

drones its insinuations

of eternal beatitude.

A benevolent Virgin

smiles, we firmly trust,

upon their chant, upon

their holy energies.