Paul Bilger, Sunflower (digital photograph)
Gaping down the wrong end of a telescope
you may, by chance, witness
the wounded Christ
ferried
upon the back
of the intrepid ladybug,
declare
paradise
this zone where seraphim
of photosynthesis green
the last of Eden's
flowering
industries—
the trellis, the window box's celestial riot
of flora,
where pollinating angels bank and buzz
inside the bell
of the Trumpetflower,
the Blue Bugle—
the holy rumored so small
as to scarcely exist at all.