I found a thistle flowerhead
along the road like a sermon,

old, defensive and patient. Nature
spends herself in this way too,

a territory that precedes her map,
an eternal copy without an original,

a composite and complicate intercourse
of lost Geneses dispersed with wind.

Inspire, Reverend, God’s word,
original or not. Say something

specific or current maybe that returns
upon itself. We love cycles.

Make His Word perennial.
Sow and continue to reap.