My singing teacher
tells me God
is what happens
when you leave the walls
of your life,
which I ponder
on an open hilltop
far from the house,
a sunny
late-autumn day,
whose warmth
will soon be memory,
soon winter
will cover the ground.
I wonder
if I can wall
inside myself
the god-ness
I find today,
carry it down
through the woods,
to the opening
of our grassy yard,
and in, through the red
painted door.