Rock Cave

As the others
make their way
to church,
I find myself wandering in
the true
First Church of God.
The grandest cathedral,
the most graceful spires,
filtering dappled sunlight
through the autumn leaves,
the stained glass
of sky
against the oranges, reds, yellows
of the fading canopy.

And this prickly pinecone
offers up its own communion-
its own blood-sap-sticky-leaking
leaving its mark on my hands,
a constant reminder
that it's all
living and dying,
and we're all a sacrifice
and receiving sacrifice,
and coming and going,
and rising and setting
in the crisp, cool autumn sun.

10/17/04