What if God

What if God were the everything

not mere perfection also imperfection 

not just the broadcaster of trees

but where the seeds land find a way

underground aloft a place to stand

a leaning a decay in time a falling

not just the wind that rises at dark 

that sets them waving at nothing 

but the squeak of the porch swing

made of oak something not nothing

that’s held its place a long time 

how it sings putting up with a body 

hears the knot in the knotty pine sighing

through the night through the rain

out from the heart of the grove 

that deep-down ache its lost limb

Paul Hunter

Paul Hunter is a Seattle poet whose latest book is “Clownery,”  in lieu of a life spent in harness (Davila Art & Books, 2017), an autobiography in prose poetry.