The Gargoyle’s Watch

I am greeted by a cool morning’s energy

carried in the brisk air breaking on my back.

Refreshed, I approach the towering sanctum.

Its spire rends the sky, providing a lofty perch

for a lone gargoyle.

The quiet outside belies the business that awaits;

the sacred toils of the acolytes are already underway.

I enter.

Seated, I exhale deeply

as if my lungs’s wind could crack the cover before me.

I stare down the ancient text, weighty and arcane.

I must plunder its secrets.

I exit.

The evening is well upon me; today’s work was slow.

I turn to face the great doors as they creak closed.

My fellows are mostly gone, but a dedicated few remain.

Should I strike home, or is my day not yet done?

I pause, my body already turned towards home.

The doors still swing on their hinges.

The dying light of the sun pierces the heavenly blanket

illuminating the cathedral’s upper reaches.

I see a spark of light reflected from the gargoyle’s metallic eyes,

but no warmth radiates earthwards.

Dragging reticent feet,

I enter.