Let there be water
Let it be called pond
Let trunk and branch and leaf arise around it
Walling the sky’s mirror against too much
Let small plump birds paddle its silk surface
Their calls echoing ancient creation
Let stiff winged things fly and dart about
Above stiff legged things that skim
A criss cross the water’s top.
And let beneath flash silver through the murk
Let it rise and ripple and vanish
In its other world
Let sun shine and moon
Let clouds pass
Let day and night
Let wind and rain.
And one morning
When the grass is as wet as water
And sky, trees, soft breeze whisper
Glory, glory, glory.
Let a young man come there
From too much, carrying a rod.
Let him sit, savour, search the deep for silver
And let, O Lord who said,
Let it be, it be
That he finds enough
Is filled and goes happy away.