A song of praise is fitting for him who
heals hearts—I don't mean
sings balmy songs, I don't mean sits
to weep with the weeping or stitches
up, I mean
A song of praise is fitting for the one
who names stars
like little children, not like
rivers on a map or deeds of the dead.
Praise befits the firm, crooked fingers
and teeth of a God who more than looks.