spirituality:

cathedral ceilings

are about as spiritual

as a stranger

jumping off the bus.

sermons are dark earth

scored with furrows.

rote prayers are like

poisoned snow falling

and leaves blown

by a cold wind.

but my love of God

is private and patient

noticing morning birds

hunting for food

as young leaves

drink in morning sunlight,

allowing me to heal myself

so that the moon

is my mother.

clouds are flowering blue

and mystical over the

face of stars.

11/08/2017