While it is still dark
A planet tomb waits,
By life, potential, as yet
Fruitless, but
Attended to: sure enough
Fecundity is flooding in

First light
Through chinks not of stone
But of cloth
Shines in, unquenchable: in him
Is life, a new week
Seasons turning
Winter is broken at last

It springs forth
This new thing: life, releasing
Lives, to grow, take shape
Set roots, bear
Bidden fruit:
A planet being adorned
Do you not perceive it?

Breath baited
The cosmos hopes, watching
For the glory of
Life-clothed children
Bearing within them – freed
From fear’s bondage, death’s vice –
Undecaying life
(The gardener’s culture)

And the Spirit of God brooding
Over waters become wine.


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