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 Dear฀Departed฀Reverend฀Grandfathers, there’s฀no฀way฀to฀explain฀my฀wallowing ฀฀in฀fields฀of฀burdock,฀goldenrod,฀yarrow, the฀lure฀of฀rocks฀that฀hide฀slime-pathed฀slugs, ฀฀pillbugs,฀dewy฀leaves฀that฀prism฀sunlight into฀muted฀stained-glass฀Sundays฀I฀still฀carry, ฀฀close฀as฀a฀pocket,฀familiar฀as฀a฀tongue, my฀child฀eyes฀and฀ears฀infused฀with฀spectacle, ฀฀thin฀voices฀singing฀as฀hands฀pantomimed, This฀little฀light฀of฀mine,฀I’m฀gonna฀let฀it฀shine, ฀฀a฀wish฀to฀hold,฀to฀shape฀the฀world as฀we฀passed฀that฀brass฀collection฀plate ฀฀up฀and฀down฀the฀pews฀of฀the฀few฀who฀knew beyond฀a฀shadow฀of฀a฀doubt฀what฀was฀what, ฀฀palms฀proffering฀wine฀and฀wafer,฀mouths฀little฀O’s closing฀on฀metaphor—sight฀and฀sound฀beyond฀sense— ฀฀the฀sheer฀pressing฀opulence฀of฀cattail,฀cane, chicory,฀the฀blood฀love฀of฀my฀children, ฀฀the฀deep฀sweet฀oblivion฀of฀skin฀on฀skin, invisible฀as฀Venus฀in฀daytime. ฀฀Grandfathers,฀where฀are฀you฀in฀this฀restless flurry฀of฀taut-ribbed฀leaves฀turning฀in฀wind, ฀฀quackgrass,฀timothy,฀bulrush฀rising฀in roadside฀and฀field?฀In฀the฀irrepressible฀green, ฀฀somewhere฀beyond฀my฀own฀embroideries, what฀thin฀strand฀in฀chlorophyll฀and฀red฀cell, ฀฀in฀amoeba฀and฀sperm฀whale,฀in฀the฀complex turnings฀of฀unseen฀meiosis,฀gamete฀straining ฀฀for฀replication,฀threads฀through฀all like฀the฀drawstring฀of฀an฀enormous฀bag? ...

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