The Hum of Love

 

Trees are the hair 

that stand up 

on the head of God,

or at least that is my conjecture,

leaves of a thousand kinds 

adding variety and texture.

It’s like a lecture 

on the beauty 

of the Creator’s mind.

He is surprised 

by my obtuseness, 

an unwinding that is useless

when it does not recognize 

all that was, is, and is to come,

the finite sum 

of my boundedness to time.

In the crime of ingratitude

He gives me latitude.

The hum of love 

undergirding the sublime.

***