Smaller Gods by Daniel Skach-Mills

 

Image | Lurii Laiman

Smaller Gods

Cannon Beach, Oregon

Here on the Oregon Coast,

my spiritual beliefs are birds—

so many species, it’s hard to refrain 

from proselytizing the Common Mure, 

keep faith in the Tufted Puffin to myself, 

resist my urge to convert to Cormorant

the first binoculars I see scanning heaven 

and Haystack Rock for the eagle,

shrieking gull in its talons (got me praying, 

this morning, I tell you) snatched up, 

right in front of me, off the beach.

Our Feather,

That art in heaven.

Says it all.

But leaves room, 

I think, for smaller birds.

Bushtits, for example—

entire flock today,

two sky-scattered lines

merging, single swoop,

visual polyphony

into one united prayer

burgeoning the boxwood, 

winged kyrielles and, 

if birds could be bells, 

soft chimes alighting 

like grace or graceful gods 

who, when they show up, 

often appear smaller

than we imagined. 

No dogma here—

just feathers fluttering 

down softly 

in a heavy, human world 

the lightness heaven loves— 

branch empty, 

nothing on it,  save waiting.

© Daniel Skach-Mills

Daniel Skach-Mills

Daniel Skach-Mills’ poetry has appeared in Braided Way, Sojourners, Sufi (Featured Poet), and Kosmos Journal. His book, The Hut Beneath the Pine: Tea Poems, was a 2012 Oregon Book Award finalist. A former Trappist monk, Daniel lives in Portland, Oregon, where he served fifteen years as a docent for Lan Su Chinese Garden.

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