How can you lift a song that God can hear
among so many stars?
God already has enough angels, trust me.
Leave the glorious cacophony to them.
Praise in the plainness of what no one else
can duplicate or even see:
let your eyes open like oceans to what is
right here, this canyon of shadow,
this passing scent, this bowl of cereal.
The galaxies you wonder at, when you get up close,
are just rocks and fire, dust and gravity.
Let the flaming sunset and the angel harpist
fling their astonishments to the heavens.
You, earthling, praise in ordinary presence:
be amazed from underneath that unreachable vault;
here in this grass-and-pavement world
let your wonder sing like nothing God has ever heard
because now, here, in this moment, indeed
no one has.
January 13, 2020