The Mutter of God

the crystals

of ice

and the

thin

clouds

lingering

through the cold sky

after the late

winter storm

leave arcs

of color floating

in the

chill

morning

air

these unexpected rainbows

bent by clear frozen water

cause me to hesitate

for a moment

to pause to wonder

where i'm from

where

in this world

i'm going

to my human ears

the syllables

barely whispered

as i walk home

with my dogs

don't flow

easily into messages

don't mold together

freely into words

from the sublime

from the divine

but to this waiting

beating heart

what is there

nevertheless

seems somehow

intended

immaculate in its

conception

touched

by a distant

fire drawing near

arriving

even

as it

disappears