She had seen it before.
It always amazed and fascinated her.
And she saw them everywhere.
The pan-toasted roll with its raised and braised
Tectonic plates was
The aerial view of the earth
In golden hues instead of blue.
The inner ear was
The cross-cut of the sea shell.
The clouds were
The cream rolling up in her coffee.
The tree rings were
The solar system.
The Creator’s fingerprint
Was everywhere.
He couldn’t declare that
He was innocent
Of the crime of creating the universe.
Nor would He.
M.R. Hyde
Copyright 2019
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