Psalm 90

   You caught my eye when you were just    Someone else’s epigraph;    I wanted you to be my own,    To fall into my arms and laugh At little things I would observe or try: I copied you out so in love was I.

   Your repetitions at the end    Almost made me cry that time,    And some time later, taking stock    Of what I thought I had of mine, I found you out by a kind of providence Opening a book inside a book by chance.

   I loved your vulnerability,    Your ancientness, the kind of prayer    You made, its delicate insistence    That just might change the listening air: Establish it for us, the work of our hands, Establish it, the work your hand commands.

   And let its beauty be upon us:    Let your work be shown to children.    Make us glad as many days,    And years, affliction has bewildered. And satisfy us early with your song: Change your mind, loved one, return. How long?