Holy Ground (a poem)
How often have I
failed to notice
the bushes
the trees
the grass
the fields
ablaze
yet not consumed?
How often have I
failed to hear
the rustling
the wind
the whisper
the voice
calling
yet not audible?
How often have I
failed to feel
the soil
the dirt
the ground
the earth
holy
yet not different?
All trees are burning
All winds are speaking
All ground is holy
Yet,
do I not
notice?
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