IF YOU’RE SCARED GO TO CHURCH
From the 2016 Collection "Nickels and Dimes"
The cicada,
once with the humility of a barnacle
weeping beneath the fern,
now screams its inane mantra,
which
to the twitching grass
is jazz.
The blades dance on end,
tethered by the earth’s hug,
dance fearlessly
in surrender.
And the stupid clouds
never stop fleeing the merriment below,
thinking it a sin,
they keep spearing the horizon
in hopes of docking their shadows
over paradise
come morning.