Nature’s Sermon
My morning walk started off
With vultures leading the sermon,
Though they didn’t have much to say
Their silence did determine
That I needed to go and ask the bees,
What is the meaning of all of this?
To which their only reply was
A pollen-filled mind your bzzzness!
The morning glories were of no help,
They folded over, winked shut their eyes,
The hydrangeas wouldn’t stop blushing away
Batting pale lashes between long sighs
I thought for sure the mockingbirds knew,
But they loudly cackled and cajoled,
Rue the day my aim improves
And with a rock their roost gets rolled
Perhaps the answer’s in the sky, I thought,
My chin uplifting to the clouds,
All I see is a boy with three balloons
Walking swiftly into a shady crowd
Neighbor’s Boxer tries to warn me
‘Bout the rain, but all I hear are barks
That make me uncertain if he wants
To kill me, or take me to the park
The beetle in the Rose of Sharon
Click-clacks at me about his breakfast,
Butterflies reveal barely a wing,
Too snooty to offer so much as a preface
Came back to my driveway elated,
Yet unsure about life as ever,
Convinced that every answer I’ll get
Is as shiftable as this weather
My Sunday morning communion
Closes with this humble, sincere note —
Wisdom’s revealed in all shapes and sizes,
If you read the line between each quote
