Church (Site of)

Eight centuries of rain erased the walls but never the shape. The nave and chancel still emerge through grass, large enough for a congregation and holding the broken octagonal font that once caught baptismal water. This is not a ruin waiting to be judged; it is a church that stopped needing roofs. People may have stood where the chancel narrows, listened to wind in empty space and left behind no name. The stones remember the shape of worship long after the worshipers forgot the words.