Ode To a Baby Goat
I look upon your remarkable frame
and marvel that you started out
of no acclaim,
a tiny clump of cells en route
to where you are, ignited by life’s flame.
In truth, a mystery to contemplate
how all the parts get sorted out,
without a doubt,
the most amazing aspect of this little game.
For surely God must find delight
in works performed well out of sight
of eye of mortal man,
dividing sinew, marrow, bone
in full accordance with the plan,
the outcome known to Him and Him alone.
And who am I, a fault to find,
or declare right
the formulations of this great and wondrous mind?
No, I will fall upon my knees and praise
your gentle shepherd, baby goat,
for He who plays
at such a game is not remote,
but has drawn near and given us a name
by which to call upon,
for ever on,
creator of us two, alike but not the same.
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