We praise you God, for your name is near —Psalm 75:2

In the vein-code

of a leaf, hear it in the bleating

of the neighbor’s round-horn sheep—

brown, noses to grass,

going about the holy work of being

who they are. I touch the name of God

on bark, feel his name

firm beneath my feet, taste it on snow,

on rain—also in berries black, 

plucked by a child’s hand from bramble 

fields knotted with blossoms white 

and thorn. I hear it echo

in porch chimes, the cat’s purr,

the coming of storms.

Photo by Isai Sánchez on Unsplash