Angelic was the March in the river lands
cardinals to shake a stick at shaking trees
choirs of species performing variations
mammals evangelical knitting the getting
and insects invisible preparing the way.
Wake up earth the master is returning.
Who may or may not flower in the green
that springs out of ground and rocky bank?
Perhaps the boy bicycling to the quarry
perhaps the wife deciding to run away
the pastor balances his budget over coffee cake
all the domesticated animals are mating.
An altar of beaver dam rises up in the pond
hooved deacons attend in new robes
while bears mumle a voracious litany
doves ecumenically dash through the groves
settling only when the others take pause
wisdom in reverence, the next step close.
Grasses are shaggy, flowers are generous
now it is June long days well started
we all anticipate wherever we are working
the day when all work earthly or heavenly
will cease as will our pride and worry
at noon not a shadow presaging a decimation.
We will be like clouds or actually become
alive with the liveliness of silent sunshine
the snakes will extend wings of belonging
people will remove and bury all clothing
the master who was with us all along
will scatter our DNA upon the galaxies.
You and I share breakfast in November
having seen religion arrive and leave
we throw together a hash of leftovers
tastes like garlic and half-cooked carrots
most of the natural and unnatural worlds
are still dreaming about a kingdom to come.