The cityscape flowed into a winding trail
that took me into the green heart of the park
and I shrugged off a mindset overly stale,
as light teased a creek that stowed waters dark.
Weak, I found a seat, low and ergonomic,
a stump that offered me one hundred rings,
so I sat and listened to sisters reed and willow
touched by the teachings their humility brings.
Others walked by, most plugged into iPods
They never noticed the blue heron that stood
deep in holy shadows painted by our God
now cast aside for wireless serpents. Woods
shrink as new iDols sow unoriginal sins,
Technology’s church grows just east of Eden.