About four minutes, between laundry and Little Miss Sunshine

God is in the details.
God is in the pulled thread. God is in the garden.
God is in the broken chair. God is in blocks
and bustles and bargain basements.
God is in silk.

The worm that yearns itself
into dead beauty.
The casting off of the unused.
The unnecessary beauty. The toys.
The creation of fuel
from comfort. The growing and dying and growing.
The surprise windows opening in ordinary fabric.
The details.