Anchorite and Missionary 2
The pulpit was the cell he occupied each week
For his selected audience he would pontificate
To put the world to rights in his short address
His message gracefully received by nodding heads
Accompanied by the odd ‘Amen’ or two
They bowed in prayer believing it would come true
Quite content this was all they needed to do
The anchorite is happy with his chosen flock
Whose servitude does not disturb his peace
They make their generous offerings once a week
Topped by the occasional sale and summer fete
Whilst those in need of help must wait
There are so many missionaries to be found
Upon our streets our alleys and in our squares
They may drop their widow’s mite into the cup
Where there’s a trolley in the shop for donations
They add another dozen cans of beans
Helping in the soup kitchen once a week
Dropping off some clothes to a charity shop
Visiting an old person in time they have to spare
Helping an old blind man to cross the road
They don’t need a pulpit where they can proclaim
Nor do they feel the need to make a claim
They are doing this for some deific name
Copyright: David Hopcroft March 2024
Park Bench Tales and other writings 