The God of Compost

Posted on MD by John Carl, after Barbara Kingsolver.

I believe in trees and that heaven has something to do with how dead trees gentle themselves into long, mossy columns of bright-smelling, crumbling earth, lively inside with sprouting seeds and black beetles.  I can not make myself believe in a loud-voiced, bearded God on his throne in the clouds, but I am moved to tears by the compost pile.

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