Unchurched—I love this word!
It makes me feel like a vacant lot,
a sanctuary for knotweed & loosestrife.
We unchurched are like salamanders:
slippery, amphibious, choosing to dwell
where you only go for baptism.
I called an owl & she answered.
It was Greek to me, but she flew right in
& clacked her bill threateningly.