The Messiah In My Backyard

Today I pulled a worm from the black earth

Thanked him for transforming death into fertility

Kissed him for the soil I walk on, grow my food in

Sang him grateful songs for the trees and birds

I told him of the ocean, how she spreads his silty seeds

Of minerals in raindrops and crystals glowing in the sun

I spoke of bogs and mangrove, a blue heron fishing

How a salmon smells his native stream

He suffered my gratuity humbly

Impatient for the company of mycelium

Who do not talk so much

What right had I, anyhow

Pulling God away from his easel

To thank him for the daisies?

Chagrined, I returned the messiah

To the shade beneath monstera fronds

Where he is sculpting decay into decadence

Even as we speak


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