Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
Some keep the sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.
God preaches--a noted clergyman--
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to Heaven at last,
I'm going all along!
I love Emily Dickinson's poetry, and this is probably my favorite, even though I do put in an appearance in church from time to time. I've always felt closest to the Divine Presence, whatever it is, when I'm outside among the wild things.
Visit all the "August Muses" at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago, written by a 'Bama native living in the City of Broad Shoulders.