My Cousin Ned
There is no God. I sigh. Yawn. Give a nod.
I don’t believe it anyway, he says. He is a clod.
He looks over his shoulder to the waterfall boulder.
How does he think he has thrived? Gotten older?
What about the stars, the moon, the Milky Way?
You have to admit they are here each and every day.
He tries to ignore nature, does his very best.
I point out twilight and daybreak and all of the rest.
I discover his mind is closed to all beauty around.
So I tiptoe off, barely making a sound.
He stops me in my tracks marveling at a huge spider web.
Recognizing nature’s prowess in this wonder. My cousin Ned.
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