on church

(this poem woke me up, so to speak, so i wrote it down. 
i'd like to think that, if she read it, mary oliver might like it, too.)

on church
(colossians 1:12)

i should go inside.
my feet touch the floor now, but still
i squirm

instead i feel i must attend mass among the poppies
their faces upturned in praise where wind
and pollen together, like incense, green the meadow

nor can walls contain wild pounding waves of
ocean tide, sermon without words; meek hymns
of foam singing their way to sand

such inheritance of light ablaze for birds
and whomever else will rise to opening of
day not even an apple blossom can refuse

yes, i will always have a home among the trillium
where deer make sanctuary among the boughs,
Christ never more real.

ls 4.25.15