Nature is a church.
The sun shines its glorious rays,
Light cascading down on the Earth,
Like the harmonies of angels.
Nature is a church.
The trees stand in ancient worship,
Their limbs a steeple
That can only be observed in awe and wonder.
Nature is a church.
Her soil is sacred ground that support plants
More often than human feet.
Nature is a church.
She gives more than she takes,
Accepting and providing for all,
Even those who exploit her beauty.
Nature is a church.
A beacon in a world of woe.
Nature is a church.
The trees had the right idea all along.
Becca is a senior psychology major at Eastern. She is interested in the relationships between nature, environmentalism, and mental health. She enjoys yoga, writing, reading, getting tattoos, and doing anything outdoors (especially hiking!). Most of her poetry was written during her time at the Oregon Extension, a study away program based in Southern Oregon.
Inklings Literary Magazine 