Little crystal-cotton clouds streak the afternoon sky
Dabbing at the pink and orange light of the sun
As it slinks away like an over-cautious cat
To its lair below the horizon.
The church spire stretches heroically
Within the frame of my vision.
Like an earth-bound beggar it notices
My awe-inspired gaze
And reaches out its cruciform hand
Asking for my praise.
But despite its holy guise, I know the church
Is bound to earth, and can offer no refuge
For my far-seeking eyes.
The sky is blue, bluer than the eye of Christ.
Here I stand, enraptured by the beauty
And splendor of God’s creation,
Unafraid of any judgement that might come to pass.