Cosmos

I think of God as cosmos,
a changing constant
that, so far as we know, is eternal;
maps times and ways
that are directly personal,
but not directive.

Mountains still climb,
seeds sprout, and green plants flower.
I smell the scent
and suffer what is called hay fever;
even so, look out at rivers, hay fields and corn:
such great abundance;

all, certainly, invariably alive.
Everything has eyes,
though not in a form like mine.
Everything is tracked.
When I choose to look at the moon,
the moon looks back.