Issue 6 – Hardy

Rob Hardy

Agnostic Psalm

is a harder discipline
than faith.
Watching the maple wings spin
free of their parent shade,
I can imagine God more easily
than the laws of science.
Sir Isaac himself—
scientific method
be damned!—
may have seen this seed
as a key, turning
in the clockmaker’s hand,
winding the invisible
springs of gravity.
Even physics has
its fallen angels, hard
facts lapsing into metaphor.
I know I am no
more than what I am:
a monkey once-removed,
an iteration of primordial dust.
I know this,
and still find comfort
in songs of exile,
these seeds
hanging from the maples
like unstrung lyres.