Mossy Face of Decay
I'm at ease in nature and its informality.
Church is rigid like a crucifix.
Everything in its proper, perfect place.
While nature makes the sweetest grape.
Church turns it into the spirit of sacrifice.
Nature is honest- carefree, without need to lie.
Church has many closets without exits or alibis.
My imperfections are just blemishes on the pristine.
In nature I'm good enough-good enough to eat.
Church will serve up your flesh in a collection plate.
Sauté your pocketbook week after week.
I'm at ease in nature
in my stained blue jeans
sitting on the mossy face of decay.
Beneath an emerald umbrella
face to face with a Paw Paw tree.
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