I played cricket yesterday. It was the first match of the season, which we won, despite dropping at least 15 catches (I have a black finger of shame) and enjoying many comedy moments. So it was, stiff and sore, that I ventured into the garden early this morning to attend my ‘church’.

The birds sang hymns.

Deer in the thicket were present but unseen like the Holy Ghost.

I planted onion sets like one might lay down gifts at the altar.

I wove and tied up live willow as if wrestling with theology.

I mark my blessings one by one. No matter what may unfold in the future, I count this day – its beauty, it’s promised companionship and the health I now enjoy – as a gift I should treasure…

…and it all made me think about the earth that sustains us. The community that carries us. The inter-relatedness of everything…

…and the spirit (that I sometimes call god) who holds it all together – or perhaps it would be better to say ‘who loves it all by becoming what s/he loves’

And I wrote this…

Earthling

.

What do we mean when we say ‘Earth’?

Are we not formed from the same dirt?

Is the soil beneath our feet not alive?

Does it not squirm and churn

With sinew and stone, just

Like we do?

.

What do we mean when we say ‘Earth?’

This ball of half-cooled molten rock

Still sweating from creation condensation

Careening through unknown space

Perhaps still searching for home

Like we are

.

What do we mean when we say ‘Earth?’

Is it it, or is it us?

If it survives, must we first fall?

How much wounding can it mend?

Is it big, or is it small?

Like we are

.

What do we mean when we say ‘Earth?’

This womb that bore us

This tomb that buries us

This field that feeds us

If we should prick it, will it not bleed

Like we do?