A poem: The Voice of God

 

The Voice of God.

Sometimes it comes

In the stillness of the mornings.

Sometimes it comes in the cool

Breeze that brushes my ear.

Sometimes it comes in

The sound of the water

As it spills its way down

The cataracts of our

Backyard fountain.

Today I heard it

In the repetitive screeches

Of an American Kestrel

As it glided effortlessly

On the updraft

Of the hill warmed by

The morning sun.

And I thanked God

For hearing His Voice

In the screeches of the kestrel.