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SONNET ON THE THEOLOGY OF WEATHER
(June, 2011 – Birmingham, AL)
The loud thunder roared
a few drops to the ground.
Right now rain is by all adored,
but rein of drought rules the town.
In Arizona the forests burn
while the Mississippi spills over land.
If each to the opposite turned
we would praise God’s loving hand.
Weather patterns are not evidence of
divine sovereignty of all details.
It seems that if the heavenly Dove
really does fly, She stealthily sails
right over our heads and out of sight.
The weather vane points to godless night.
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