Walking on water, I forgot about the fish
in their white gardens of coral.
Walking on the snow, I forgot about spring,
though others knew to dig for it.
My snowshoes kept me from sinking
& I glided over the drifts
almost as lightly as the shadows of the trees.
And watching those shadows,
I even managed to forget about the trees themselves.
This is what’s wrong with that dreamy kind of faith
that depends on miracles. We don’t need
one more way to keep our distance.