On the scaffold twenty meters up tracing her head in the damp plaster, Michelangelo knows it’s going to take more than a breath to make Adam drop his can’t-be-bothered pose, too bored to stand even at God’s charged arrival, held aloft by a crew of hard-working cherubs who struggle to maintain lift long enough for contact to occur: a critical maneuver of the right hand complicated by the added weight of Eve on whom His left arm rests. Drops of paint freckle his face as he wonders how many priests will take offense but concludes that only skin to skin will do. Without it, Adam’s forever grounded. God’s touch is first. Hers is next.
Maker of galaxies, at latest count Billions! And who can say that our Big Bang Was not preceded, from your primal fount By other billions, while the angels sang? Then shall we take the word of a great Jew, That one child is more precious in your sight Than all the rocks in all the worlds you view, And loyal anima is your delight? Maker of galaxies, how then weigh out A small Iraqi eye, terror-suffused, Against the marvels you have brought about, Why are your little children so abused? “Not bread, not miracles, not use of power,” So your Son said. We must await your hour.
Spring did not officially arrive until two this afternoon, or so the weatherspinner had informed us, so that when, at morning prayer, my still wintered words were interrupted by a pair of honking calls, I laughed aloud to think that my Canadian neighbors of several springtimes had beaten nature’s clock by seven hours and more to seek their customary lot along the creek for hatching this year’s brood.
Minutes later—the creed and half a prayer, no less— and their first raucous pass to reconnoitre was followed by the splashdown run, low now across our deck and through the clustered trees onto that quiet pool stretching above the rapids where, over the next few days, they will be joined, most likely, by a familiar pair of mallard ducks who share their taste in shoreline real estate. Meanwhile a red-tailed hawk orbits high aloft in leisurely anticipation.