There will always be a God
in mind, wondering out loud,
“What do I do with them?”
They preach on the hill,
they sweat in the sauna,
they proceed through stop signs
and drag on their broken wagons.
The shopping cart of life’s
gotta be filled with sand bags,
and just a little bit of money,
according to my older brother.
He said, “Nobody pockets riches
by selling gold on the street,”
and I might as well believe him–
for it’s God that looks up,
looks in at birds flying high
and you know how his dove
will find you, opening your mind
first to the sun
our knowledge as hidden
as our secrets
and that God is just a wind
pushing love through the door.
August 26, 2014