The universe is a form of divine law,
your reasonable father.
When you feel ungrateful to him,
the shapes of the world seem mean and ugly.
Make peace with that father, the elegant patterning,
and every experience will fill with immediacy.
Because I love this, I am never bored.
Beauty constantly wells up like the noise of springwater
in my ear. Tree limbs rise and fall like ecstatic arms.
Leaf sounds talk together like poets
making fresh metaphors.
The green felt cover slips;
we get a flash of the mirror underneath.
The conventional opinion of this poetry
is that it shows great optimism for the future.
But Father Reason says, No need to announce the future.
This now is it. Your deepest need and desire
is satisfied by this moment's energy
here in your hand.