TO THE CHURCH IN THE WILDERNESS:
by Hexagon Press
The trees provided a solemn cover
for the church weeping in its stony slump,
its buttresses are like broken twigs
covered in a mossy substance nestled
with ferns completing their arc.
For nature stayed beside the remains
and laid its textured hands on the colored
glass and prayed over the painted
folds in the minor prophet’s tunic.
The sun has set behind the western gate.
In the pines I saw their arms fall off and many
others surrounding the vessels are seeding
into the earth to anticipate the great harvest.
The branching of the leaves, the branching
of their veins beneath their waxen skin,
means they are meek and impressionable.