maple tree—
my steeple, each leaf a bell
rattling tones into the air—
i kneel before your trunk
kiss your roots
bite them gently and dip my tongue
into the leaking wounds to drink
the mirky holy water
maple tree your bark
is the Easter robe;
every groove i follow with my finger
says Hallelujah;
it gets caught under
my nails and i weep
from beauty
maple tree the ground beneath you
is my nativity scene:
Christ is the patch of dandelions,
the Magi the worms coming to bury themselves
below the stalks
maple tree you are my little church
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