sonnet

God was a hawk in the glow of the morning, a bee
in the rose that has stars for her petals,
The far lights felt him, the first-born lamps
Spun from the brush of his wings when he bathed in
the splendor of a firmament men's eyes never imagined,
Exulting in the beauty of things, a free eagle.
But love drew him dustward, for love's sake he
stooped, like a lover came God with a garland of suns
In his locks and the wild wine freedom on his lips
To the earth and the arms of a Jewess, and to a house
with a tribe of tame serpents in the handmaiden planet
Of a least of the stars -- the descent of the lover.