you

glory
is left behind,
hanging in the closet
gathering Adam & Eve's dust,
as you put on
humility's shirt
(stained with grace)
that's been lying
crumpled up on the floor
to be tossed into
baptism's wash;

you
(who waded
splashing and laughing
in Eden's crystal fountain)
now
jump feet first
into this messy muck
we call life;

you
could be dancing
with the stars,
gliding around
Saturn's rings,
but you throw
your leg
over the back
of an animal
(which reminds you
of your disciples);

you
we welcome
with cheering voices
and nail-choked hearts.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman