They don’t say it, but they could,
the roots working down under the ground,
the sun beaming down on a flowering garden,
the bees about their labors,
neither proud nor self effacing about their honey:
Here. Look what I made.
They don’t call attention to it
(though it is called),
the spring rains greening the hillside,
the weaver bird stitching a masterpiece.
They don’t need anyone’s approval.
The beetles that have cleaned the forest floor,
the snow making sensual sculptures,
the loon and its lake-echoed cry,
they are at peace with their glory.
It’s only God, really, who makes a big deal—
hear the voice of the Holy One!—
who creates you, keeps creating you,
and steps back and says,
“Now that’s good. That’s real good.”
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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