He sat outside at the table,
reading the paper,
Glanced at a bird in the
sun-splotched branches,
Then saw on his plate
a doughnut, decorated,
Where none had been
when he sat down.
—
No one near him, nothing above,
he seemed alone,
But knew it was not a miracle,
by the silence;
Miracles are loud and brash,
earthquakes and disco lights,
God wants to be noticed
when violating physical law.
—
He heard a wee giggle
from the grass below;
Pushing back the tablecloth,
he saw a shining face,
Crazy tussled hair, red
as a Neanderthal’s,
Becrumbed grinning lips
and chocolate cheeks.
—
He ate the doughnut with coffee,
and pondered a revelation,
That God is a secret, slithering arm
of a young child.
She escaped from her cave and ran,
crowing across the lawn,
Filled with certainty, and joyfully
ready to save all mankind.
Bluster & Absurdity 