The breath of God sighs over the wild wastes;
The wind of God blows over the dark deep;
Creation! Spring fertile plains out of chaste
rocks; churning waters tamed, divided. Creep,
crawl, stomp, buzz, gallop, fly: filling-world creatures
filled up with breath. Good? Ah, yes, good! God—what?
—mirrors in mud God self! Waste and water
and breath: humanity. Made two so that
we could be one. How long and far we’ve come
since then and those green fields, still streams. We lost
first joy and wandered wilderness, succumbed
to chaos. But hope: our breath restored cost
Our Lord—the word and breath of life smothered,
His muddy breath-filled image to recover.