We walk the field
forever turning back
to pick up all the broken
bits and pieces
from this
the only ground we’ve ever known.
Fragments poking out
through churned-up clay
will fade away.
Knowing this I hear
the birds sing truly
in one great voice
they lift their throats and sing.
Leave your nets
your boats upon the shoreline
leave everything behind you
follow him.
Another Way of Saying 