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To Corey Mesler's previous piece

From my Porch an Intercession

Under the umbrageous
arms of Yggdrasil
squirrels are combing
the nutted earth.
There's a bird, and I
don't know its
name, sings a song
both plaintive
and plain.  Its natural
beauty unnerves me.
I look up from my
Josephine Tey
to remark upon the
variegated world.
It's all a carpet leading
to the celestial,
a flying carpet.
I make this a letter to
the Lord.  A
prayer that this all
goes on, even
the rot, the aging, the
whole damn attrition thing.

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