Anne S. Moore


Lord, ...God!
Poetry by Anne S. Moore

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Lord, ...God!
Poetry by Anne S. Moore

I tiptoe carefully
through the woods
and would not
step on
any little thing that
You have made;
And as I look at
each design on
every leaf and
tiny bug,
I feel so like
the timid thrush
whose throbbing throat
at last explodes in
reckless praise
with
feather-robed choruses
scattering
notes of ecstasy
through
every hidden loft
of this
lacy green cathedral.

(Oh, how could
anyone rush by these
endless
awesome
works of art that say in such
exquisite ways
that
You are there
and
You are God.)

A breeze is blowing in
my eyes
my nose
my mouth
and through
my self.
God,
You are here—
You’re everywhere!
Yes, look!
The trees
the grass
the wildflowers
together
nodding “yes”.
Now
whispering and
pointing, they
eagerly beckon in
every direction
this quivering butterfly
flitting from
wonder to wonder.
Suddenly . . .
as if to
search out
every sacred masterpiece
the sun beams from
a thousand skylights and
the shadowy forest
breaks into
radiant smiles of
recognition . . .

Lord, . . . God!

© Anne S. Moore, June 13, 1976