Welcome to my church

Sunday morning on a woodland road
after first winter storm.
Still, clean cathedral.
Every twig enrobed in the exact measure of snow it can bear.
No labored bending.
Glistening woody fingers all point upward.
Snow-dust sugars me until I shine.

In this moment of pure whiteness, oneness,
I pause, inhaling the silence,
Inviting all to sweet worship.

Still, clean cathedral.
Praise and prayer and selfless caring.
No labored service.
No heart or hope neglected.
Each enveloped in the full measure
Of God’s love that heals and never burdens,
Of Christ’s light that sweetens life and makes us shine.

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