Divine Art

(A villanelle)

The Lord is a poet, wondrously skilled,

God and author of night and day:

I worship His art, all majesty-filled.

The lightning-bolts fall, as their God has willed,

And the spheres do sing, and our hearts do say,

"The Lord is a poet, wondrously skilled."

The waters stir not, their order: "Be stilled!"

So the Mounts of Glory might shine in the bay.

I worship His art, all majesty-filled.

The song of the birds, brightly-billed

In time with the winds show, in their way,

That the Lord is a poet, wondrously skilled.

Each soul that's birthed, sovereignly willed,

Is perfectly planned, a beautiful ray.

I worship His art, all majesty-filled.

Some of His glory on His creation has spilled,

Prompting His creatures, in awe, to say,
"The Lord is a poet, wondrously skilled,

I worship His art, all majesty-filled."

11/23/91