May 1



Church and me ain’t never been close

Nature is my spiritual house

My fellows bugs and tree and mouse


I find the rhetoric morose

Jack in his pulpit speaks to me

Where he stands is where I’ll be


Frankly I avoid the pathos

Marigolds are my church choir

Passion flower is the friar


I don’t get the religiose

Assumption lilies are my text

And crown of thorns guide what’s next


There’s no need for the grandiose

Soft lady’s mantle comforts me

Where nature preaches I will be.


(A Constanza Poem)

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