Mountain Church
Four friends and I, one Sunday, take a ride.
our church still closed just short of one full year.
We drive, white almond blooms on either side,
instead. Their branches wave as if to cheer,
“Prepare the way! Prepare the way for God!”
Each blade of mountain grass we see arise,
like little children singing praises, laud.
Some tiny purple flowers sing reprise,
join fiddlenecks of gold, much like stained glass
to deck the mountain like an A-frame church.
We slowly drive the narrow mountain pass
to see the valley from a lookout perch.
The treetops seem to bow, like they declare
their love for God. In awe, we join their prayer.
March 7, 2021
Breath of Spring Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
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