And even the boats cannot hold back compassion.
They join in the clamor of going creation.
They rattle their paeans to Adonai clothed
In gold, unto Aten arrayed in gold.
He raises his arms, like an Aleph, in praise,
To God who brings dawn; the most Ancient of Days,
And treasures the moments his eyes can full take
The vision of sun as it climbs from the lake.
It lifts like an act of divine consecration
Up over the waters; wine dark. Desolation
Is gone and he feels, like the land, to be spoused
And stands like a masthead in morning light doused.
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Submission Name: Canticle 2
