I like it of a morning when the
lunatics still sleep
I like it of a morning when you
let my conscience weep
I love it of a rainy dawn when
all my souls you keep;
The scattered selves all rent apart,
who battle through the week.
I like and love you God
of mine. You are inside me all the time
– but mostly
after watching you,
and listening too
and always after
judging and condemning you
I see in sumptuous dew-soaked solitude
Your glory shining through.