February 20, 2013 by Dr. Bob Weathers
by Denise Levertov
Dry wafer, sour wine.
This day I see God’s in the dust, not sifted
out from confusion.
Perhaps, I thought,
passing the duckpond,
seeing the brilliantly somber water deranged by lost feathers and bits of drowning bread—
perhaps these imperfections
(the ducklings practiced their diving, stylized feet vigorously cycling among debris)
are part of perfection,
a pristine nuance?
our eyes, our lives, too close to the canvas, enmeshed within the turning dance, to see it?
(from Oblique Prayers)