I’m heading out,

another Sunday slouch,

a church mouse.

Won’t you come with?

Sit next to me,

and we’ll pray.

Stand, and songs

will be sung,

harmony hung.

We’ll open the Book

of macro stories

of micro beings.

We will see

each other as trees.

I climb you,

You let me.

You limb trim me,

and I grow.

Sit next to me God,

don’t let me be,

and I’ll scooch nearer.