In the cool of the day
All I’ve ever wanted is to walk
with you in the cool of the day
like Adam and Eve did before
the fall of our hearts, to feel moss
under my feet, and your voice,
holy, holy, wholly present.
Before sweet fruit turned bitter,
and our eye beheld things
our arms could never lift. You
knew what goodness meant for us
and we doubted that. I still do
sometimes. I’m sorry.
All I've ever wanted is to talk
to you under the sun, to
tell you how much I love the
things you have made, how
the maple tree buds at the exact
moment I needed spring,
and the porch cat jumps
into my lap, to soften the
sharpness of grief.
You knew. You know. You are
the God of maple trees and
broken hearts. Of lilies and
sparrows, sand, and hair. You
hold our joy and lament with
equal care. All I’ve ever wanted
is to thank you for that, to stand
in that ancient garden and pray.