Backyard Theology

These early springtime days—

When water maples cease
Their silent vigil, shed
Their sackcloth, and commence
In leafy decadence
To dance, as David did,
Before the God of peace.

When humble worker bees
Refrain from rationing
Their precious honey stock
And leave their hive to gawk
At how harsh snows could bring
Them flowers such as these.

When warbler scouts forget
Their fear of falcon wings
And resurrect their nests
While summoning their best
Vibrato just to sing,
“Already, but not yet.”

When she, my flesh and blood,
While climbing toward the sun,
Is spooked by some bird’s caw
And proves Sir Newton’s law,
Then I, a sinner, run
To kiss away the mud.

—I know that God is love.