The April Crabapple Blossoming Outside the Library at Southern Missionary College
A vision of eternity in white
And pink (a promise of more white to come)
Rose up above me. Till I saw that sight,
Jehovah was a dose of tedium
And heaven full of boring Bible mist.
Until I saw those limbs, I never knew
That trees are holy, and that they are kissed
By wonder, wonder of the spring of blue
Sky arching over any man who needs
To be a priest or prophet and desires
To understand the sacred that exceeds
Religion, sacred like doomed altar fires.
Theophany is far too fancy. Yet
God’s here, without his usual dark threat.