My Father’s Religion was conceived during the Women’s Art Institute. The largest tree has a poem in knit script that I wrote about walking in the woods with my father

Walking in the woods with my father requires the disciplined quiet of church.   

There is nothing to say until the birds speak.  My father smiles.  Oven bird.  Tee-cher  Tee-cher  Tee-cher.

Silence

We walk on.  I try not not to breathe too loudly as I learn my father’s religion.