my church is trees and mountains
my temple:
silence under bright and teeming stars
to find what is holy in humans
i need spaces empty of them
my tribe burns holes
in all they touch
give me instead
a kinship of owls
a reverent nation of ants
stately harmless herds
of deer or horses
let moss drink these tears
which are for us all
let us become small again
dispersing into green
