Is Life Not Burning Bush Enough

is life not burning bush enough
that we should kneel
here in the shadow of your lovely

hand, my God? what matter if
flamed tip to tip your angels sing
creasing the sun or not? stripping

all music then, unrippling from the air
let them depart, leaving no sign at all
though we but gape at the winding stair

that held them once.

in pools of drifting moons
reflected, let light become:
simply your evening's name

or through the shallows of our little day
may the deep winds come.
miracle enough 

to see You spelled in the fainter stars
and vivid, close as hummingbird,
pink shell- or rose

where we arise from griefs
to know to know that You are near in them
though we but lightly trace

from hill to hill and trembling, 
unerringly the features of Your Grace
the purple of your sandal

where the wave-
breaks open

mary angela douglas 25 june 2015