Praise
A POEM
Oh endless pattern in the trees.
You weave a world for me
Of endless beauty, endless art,
Of endless mystery.
You are a symphony, a stage,
A master’s work of art.
You have no words, still all you say
Lies deepest in my heart.
Oh God, Your hand is everywhere —
Your stroke against the sky
Outlines a joy that breaks my heart
And begs my spirit fly.
It beckons me and beckons me
And wounds me with its glee,
And I will worship You, Great God,
’Til moons shall part the sea.
You May Also Enjoy
Twentieth-Century Adam and Eve
As aliens yearn
For the native land.
We still return
To the garden —
Taste…
Envy of the Empty Air
Of what do they dream
— the white-robed monks?
while we
with half-shaped forms
from…