Grace and Peace to you.
God got tired of office work,
the endless lists,
the promotions and demotions,
the staff, so sure of themselves,
yet sucking up all the time.
God got tired of the theorems,
the measurements, the grading.
(The one rubber stamp that said SAVED
was weary from overuse, the S and D
worn away so that it just said AVE;
the others languished in a drawer.)
God got tired of the office politics,
the micromanagement, the power.
God got tired of being right,
being the only one who had any brains,
being in charge of every damn little thing.
So God left the paperwork undone,
rose, stretched, and walked off,
passing under the official portrait
(in oils, not photography, so quaint!)
with its distant, imperious gaze
(and those eyebrows!)—
headed for the enormous door,
and then thought better of it, turned around
and slipped out the service entrance,
into the breeze, the light,
the greening spring,
into children looking up at parents,
into moments of doubt and wonder,
into the smallest acts of love,
into ordinary things around the house,
into the chalice of this day.