—a psalm of Isaak, breathed beneath the chirp of evening swallows
O Hidden Hand upholding
all wrought works now
flourishing before us, O
Mad Architect of exuberant
abundance, of flora both sweet
and acrid, and lo, of all furred fauna
frolicking the field, both the mild
and the less so, baring tooth
and claw and, lo, so often
leaving in their wake so many tufts of plumage, tattered fur.
O Great Zookeeper attending all such
critters in Your ken, both microscopic
and immense, the countless
little fishes, our dear array
of water mammals, yea, and this
our great and lumbering leviathan
fathoms deep, invisible.
O Most Secret Agent of our numberless
occasions, please also mitigate
the ache attending all of the above.