Reconsider Singing

To those who think that sitting on a cloud
in heaven, playing harps or singing praise
is dull: be sure that there are other ways
of glorifying God. The land just plowed,
the plowman’s pleasure in the land, the loud
eureka of a scientist, the phrase
unearthed, the poet’s well wrought urn; these days
and works of hands God loves, and has allowed.
But listen too, to polyphonic chant,
medieval choral oceanic songs,
cathedral deeps resounding unto deep
with solemn joy – for morning falling slant,
through windows gathering colour, belongs
to God! No new earth thing will seem too cheap.

Exchange and Curiosity

A gull stood on the clock on Clearihue.
It cocked its head as if it heard a sound
inaudible to creatures of the ground
and underneath its feet the tower grew
into a riddle, with a nonsense clue
a secret with a turning cipher bound,
as if a combination could be found
by listening for clicks. I listened, too.
I heard the tread of strangers walking by
below in flocks, some squawking, through the door
to vaults of molten blue. I left the sky
outside and gladly gave my wings for lore,
for keys, for coins, for mysteries unseen.
But when birds speak, I don’t know what they mean.