Franklin Street ~

Franklin Street was
our cool cathedral to play in
vaulted high in green
with shards of light
breaking through leafy windows
to fall on a bricked street
of brownish-yellow mosaics
curbed by shaded aisles
flanked with patches of green.

Behind one stood 

what could have been a chapel 

with three steps leading up
to where flowers threw off scents
like plumes of incense
and a porch with access
to a narrow transept
at whose distant end
a lone stained glass window
glowed reddish orange
for Vespers or Mass. 

We played different on Franklin Street
under that arching canopy
celebrating our rituals
with quiet fervor in restrained games
in a sanctuary suited for prayer,
between eight mighty pillars
flanking the nave, evenly spaced
bearing the weight of the arches—
or were they oaks?