Pentecost

The corners of the ceiling

begin to vibrate, a low hum

building to noise, a buzzing

of a hundred hives in unison,

a wind of noise and sound,

the rushing and roar

of a severe violence

bursting upon them;

they cover their ears

as the fire burning

not consuming, dancing

upon their heads, touching

without burning,

a fiery furnace that doesn’t

consume or even singe,

but producing the fire

of the voices of nations.

Photograph by Julie Gentry via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.