Wide Horizons (Poetry)

27th August 2017
There are no mountains looming near
no rocks to carve or roll
the graves I know are miles away
no spire commands my soul

If I am heathen to the ones
who judge from absent things —
the empty pew — the unworn mat
a dearth of mutterings ...

Then count me primitive and lost
while thoughts run wild and free
let instinct breathe the fresher air
of possibility

I keep to those horizons wide —
no hills to crowd me in
I am no strayed and hungry lamb —
I need no shepherding

I have no church but the outdoors
I make no offerings
to any deity — my mind’s
possessed of modest wings

I side with Nature — hear the wind
that whispers to the land
predicting how the world will thrive
once freed from gods and man