Now that it’s finally sane to go outside again, get ready for a lot of nature-inspired poetry.
Communion with nature
The image is striking, if
a bit outlandish.
Trees grasping goblets of grass-pungent wine
on supplicant limbs
whose bark crackles, crusty
like broken loaves.
They tithe in oxygen, brown needles
scattered among the undergrowth,
acorn shells that lie like empty chalices
expectant of rain,
offered out of raw spring hearts.
The idea of salvation is outlandish–
the immortal God
dying for an alien world.
Salvation is outlandish,
not unlike a gathering of trees
to contemplate it.
