The Ordination of All Things

After my ordination, with ritual and ceremony, enough pomp to feel we accomplished something
And after the party, 
I walked down to the corner, for to parlay my own self
For to introvert and breathe, sigh and smile, my mouth finding grace in the surprise taste of a last bit of pound cake, in dried sugar on my face

Then light fell in the holy hour, when things bow before the shower of coming night 
Everything lifted its head, then set it down again, like a dog welcoming its master, with wagging tail
The trees, the flowers, the blades of grass in the park just across from me
But also the wood and concrete and the city street, all flush with longing
As orange and pink cascaded across the sky
Like warm incense, a languid mist
The incandescence of holiness

So light fell in the daily reminder that all will be well 
The celebration of the ordination of all things
And a reminder that God, too, vulnerably dreams
And feels the sting of human being
And the loss that evening brings