Pink flamingos flutter to the music, / grey camels march, brown moths / are semi-quavers, striped bees buzz / in harmony: music of the spheres / by omniscient composer

Sarah packed stuff into bundles for camels: / tent, beans, oil; dates, clothes and fans… / Slow travel on sand, sun blazing down — / and Abraham. Yes, Lord, we come.

‘Search,’ He said. Out in the brine, / pilgrim sailor am I, hearing rustle of rigging.

Just a hummingbird, aflutter by flowers / in an ordinary neighborhood, yet / though no bird of paradise, / I shall soar by the Spirit to Paradise / someday, singing ‘Hallelujah.’