Clothes on Folding Tables

Folding tables set up in a yard of mud.
Out of the dark church come the clothes.
We set up pallets of grey blankets for the poor.
The hands sort though the clothes on the table.
They carry shopping carts, lined by garbage bags.
They tell their stories with their searching eyes.
Eyes ahead on tables overflowing with clothes.
They all wear used hand-me-downs and dirty sweaters.
Fingers handling onesies and footsy pajamas and jelly sandals.
A sweatshirt with construction gear, trucks and hard hats, screws and bolts
gets folded and pushed down into the cart.
A white button up stays untouched with a sweet potato stain.
A pair of weathered blue sweats has a hole in the knee.
The people walk through the lines to get some second-hand stuff.
Their hands sort through the worn, used clothes.
Thousands of clothes there on folding tables.
The fingers touch and take what they please.
Into the night they come and look and sort.
Thousands of things worn here in a churchyard.
Feet walking through the mud.
All to get some used clothes,
folded on tables for the taking.