I Hear the Bells of Nature's Church

Chris Highland, August 2009. San Rafael

I hear the bells of Nature's church,
So, on my cap, and off to search
A lightened pack of curiosity, joy
Not felt so strong since yet a boy
I bend to grasp my walkingstick
And saunter deep to forest thick
One eye a telescope to scan the distant ways
One eye a microscope the ants, beetles afoot amaze

And now a choir draws my ear
Just passed the peaceful grazing deer
Anthem familiar, hymn pure and sweet
I quicken steps with lighter feet
The wood-en door swings wide to show
A stream and falls in full-singing flow
I sit to listen on a boulder pew
With a smile of knowing I'm of the chosen few

A voice beyond the cascade rises
Calls to higher altars-spiritual surprises
I leap the stones with expectation
Senses alive to wild exhortation
The woods grew darker, the way unclear
Though feeling lost, I lost all fear
When near, above me the sermon came
Upon a pulpit a tongue untame

The wisdom spoken, the courage pronounced
A truth unbroken, good news announced
With words unhuman, no words indeed
The sound sufficient, a heart to lead
The preacher ascended in feathery robe
And left me stunned with meaning to probe
For the owl herself had only said
What I already knew, What I'd already read

The scriptures and sermons, the choirs and prayer
Are all open to everyone anytime there
There in the wild inspiring places
The congregants greet you with furry, feathery faces
Your fellow parishioners shuffle, scurry, slither and fly
Teach like the trees, the mountains, the sky
And if you are listening and open each day
You might hear the bells, as they gladly, out there, call away.