LXVII: Temple in June

In winter I can see You through the trees,

but not with all this blossoming in June.

Your fairest faces layered by these leaves

that billow in the breeze from night ‘til noon.

Indeed, I'd wish these leaves to be cut back,

some good be sundered so that I might gaze

upon the precious light You shine, alack!

that these are not the empty winter days!

But this desire You'd hate, if You I know.

You love the leaves, the trees, the things that grow.

And from Your vantage out Your eyes can go,

and see the leaves unhindered down below.

This hinderance I see and so complain

is naught from where Thou art but for Your gain.