Saturday, March 17, 2012

Eden's Trees

In a rich green meadow with no company
Of a trail or road I saw
A post card church with classic bell tower
And steeple over the entrance
Freshly painted white
With a black shingled roof

Such a place where pioneering old ones
Might remember seeing horses and buggies
Waiting of a Sunday morning
For the final choral benedictus

Years ago two pine tree seedlings
Decoratively grew
One on each side of the entrance
But through years of neglect they
Had grown so tall as to dwarf
The little church and even its steeple

Their lower branches spread out
Blocking all entrance througn the door
(None shall pass)
Like those angels with the flaming swords
Blocking Eden's acess to the Tree Of Life

The congregation could not have returned
Even if they had wanted,
So quickly the forest retakes it's own,
And who down so many years
Keeps the silent building cared for,
So freshly painted?

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