by emendes
This is my church,
where overhanging filament
of birch and pine
twine into steeple
of wood and air,
where pools of light
stain like glass,
this sacred plot of prayer
This is my church,
where trampled grass
and crackling leaves,
etch endless aisles
that lead to alters
that augur a silent divinity.
This is my church
where from choir stands
come triple harmony
of yellow, black and white
crested goldfinch
in roller coasted flight.
chiming in  red-breasted
piccolo, that peaks and troughs
In endless waves of mirth.
Then comes steady hollow percussion
of bark-clinging woodpecker
all singing the praises of
the silent one.
This is my church,
where you teach me 
how to die 
with grace and wonder;
This is my church
wherein I resurrect
my life,
my love,
my soul.
January 31, 2015



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