Let him be the road where we walk to know You.
(I know the road I want him to be.
It’s graveled with bluestone and ruts.
A short way along the road, pines stand
–monarchs on a chessboard.
I’ve often wondered how You’ll play
The game you offer to play with lords
So big and pawns so mall). Help us to walk.

Let him braid streams over bluestone
when You come like the rain. We smell
the rain coming and moisten with sadness.
Let me him smooth back our weariness
–the jagged dust we smell heavy with rain.
(We hear water whirr through a culvert
and through it we sail a stick and a leaf).
Let us respond with our own scent
no less prayer than the change from brown to green.

Let him teach us the stillness of wire
between barbs in the fence.

Let him tilt up our chin to the clouds knifed
And light slides up a straw blade.
Let us know it’s You making us look.

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