Meditation

Sometimes I wonder why I worship God
And then I see the beauty in the world--
The orcas cresting in a joyful pod,
A newborn ferns first tendrils now unfurled,
A stationary stormcloud on a hill--
And I remember, for a little while.
But in the face of such enormous ill
As stalks the land, it's difficult to smile
Even at the beauty. Orcas die;
The old-growth forests where the ferns live fade;
And stormclouds dash their beauty from the sky.
Beauty lives, it seems, to be unmade.
But then the cycle of the Lord still turns:
New calves are born, and rain brings forth new ferns.