the ascension
Your bald head upturned
to Him all the Lord
sees presumably
is one more dull face
made bright with worry
and the acclaim of
heaven. Miracles
you have seen before
but do not hold a
candle to your man
gathering His robes
up modestly and
stepping into thin
mountain air. Ever
the perfet showman
His humor settles
down before the glow
of satisfaction
showing in His face
it does not reach the
eyes serene and blue
by which He sees just
hanging there a small
red flame like faith
flickering still.