A Congregation of Poets
for Dougie Padilla


On the way to your poetry reading
I saw a “congregation” of turkeys

They were praising Jesus 
by the side of the road

God only knows their denomination

In the Badlands I’ve seen prairie dogs
in their towns
praying on holy ground
facing east
with their tiny hands folded. Shalom!

and the marmots meditating
up on Beartooth Pass
all seemed like devout Buddhists

and every fish I ever caught
was a Baptist

Sometimes I wonder…

What is the doctrine of trees,
and are rocks really orthodox?

Where can I find 
a blessed congress of monkeys
or a herd of sacred cattle 
that aren’t branded?

Last October
I saw 30 deer at Vespers
in a hayfield —
their humble heads bowed
in silence

a choir of birds was singing 

aloft.