Season after season I walks these paths.
Always they are fresh, offering me
something new, hawking their wares loudly or
coyly challenging me to discover what’s changed
since last I ventured here. My eyes, ears and feet
argue—who will lead the way? So much to see,
so much to hear—I’m almost frozen in place taking it in,
though my feet, like police, say move on, move on.
For all I see, I still miss much.
My brain cannot process all the sounds I hear, and my feet
never get to walk as far and fast as they’d like.
With such abundance in one small place
I cannot fathom the superfluity of God in all the world.