Like a Heathen

Like a heathen, I let the sun warm me awake

And thought of Donne but rose alone

To wander a wooded lane well-dressed with summer sun

In silence broken by bird call

But no soul to break my fast.

The wind walked lightly in treetops

Gossiping of nature things

And rabbits guarding the brush edges

Nibbled unceasingly with wary eyes on the Sabbath breaker

So happily excused from piety

To watch the firs stretch straighter

Against the pull of gravity to catch the sun.