NeuroDivine

1.
The Easter Vestry gathers in,
with tea not far from hand;
for parish business runs more smooth
when biscuits are well‑planned.

2.
The accounts are read with earnest care—
each cent must hold its ground;
and someone sighs (as every year),
“Is that what bulbs cost now?”

3.
Each church receives its rector’s warden—
one calm, unflappable guide;
the sort who knows where candles hide
and keeps the keys supplied.

4.
Then people’s wardens, one per church,
are chosen by the floor;
with nods that say, “It’s your turn now,”
and smiles that mean “Good luck.”

5.
The glebewardens, priest’s and folk’s,
are named to mind the land;
and houses too — each roof and pipe
that fails when least it’s planned.

6.
They check the drains, the boilers’ moods,
the gutters’ yearly plea;
for glebe-house quirks are well‑renowned
from here to Drumalee.

7.
But this year is a triennial year—
so ballots must appear;
five synod reps are duly picked
to vote both far and near.

8.
And five more supplemental folk
are chosen “just in case”;
for synod dates have strange ideas
about clashing with school plays.

9.
Then nominators—four of them—
step forward, brave and keen;
to help, should ever vacancy
disturb the rector’s scene.

10.
And four supplemental ones stand by,
prepared if they are needed;
for clergy moves, like weather fronts,
arrive when least expected.

11.
Then twelve stout parish souls are named
to serve the Vestry’s call;
to plan, to mend, to sign, to sigh—
the ones who do it all.

12.
So year by year the cycle turns,
with laughter, prayer, and tea;
and parish life keeps trundling on
through cheerful ministry.

Copyright 2026 Michael McFarland Campbell