Preacher Poem by Zyw Zywa

Refreshed the sun is leaving the bed
of the starry night, the tent
where his bride will wait

Cheerful like a hero
he runs over the afternoon
and the evening, back

to her body
That's how David sees God's hand
in the sky and the world

mounted in it, so beautiful
must His greatness be
for those thinking it through

that it cannot be otherwise:
the sun rises
and goes down

With astonishment
do we look
at each other