Last night the tree’s fingers cracked open
to reveal nature’s unset gem, the amber moon
refracting light, the sky as clean glass.
Tonight, the bowl cracked as sleet
and God’s hands prickle with creation
asleep in slippery mystery.
Branches and footpaths, once illuminated
and clear, suddenly treacherous
as treason, covered in ice.
And I am contingent,
slipping in wonder
while bushels of clouds
snuff out the night’s stars as shrouds.
when God changes his mind
by troy cady