Those old Puritans, what a nutty lot,
Looked upon the forest as a metaphor
Where the God's battle gets staged; Lucifer
Versus Man. But who makes the cut
When God’s the head-coach? Wild-eyed
People like shadows between trees,
Or those who see the woods only to say:
I doubt we'll be needing any of these
But felled for raising our holy house.
Does God favor gold, steeples in the sky,
Or simple rituals on the by and by?
Which of those gods is a greater mouse?
Such readers of nature tend to go astray.
They might see you the same way.