For an obvious reason
My heart is weighty with your praise.
Obvious as the icy rain that
hangs frozen in mid-air.
Obvious as the durable, quiet man upstairs
(between my sheets.)
Obvious as the smallish mongrel who insists
to share my seat.
Obvious as that blest morning aroma,
Perfume of homes worldwide.
My own tamed with milk,
thin brim of foam.
Obvious as its porcelain cup,
“I love you,” on its side.
Obvious as the three faint lamps
Lending softness as they provide
My eyes with visions of your word
And highlight pen to page.
So here I scrawl my meager words,
Slight as they may be.
To altar the obvious praises
Of my perfect, worthy King.
My heart overflows with a pleasing theme; I address my verses to the king; my tongue is like the pen of a ready scribe. Ps. 145:1b