The Psalmist said, “Lord, how shall I not
call thy name?” The hills were green with
his wonder and the birds flew filled
with singing, so he sang, “Lord, how shall I
not know thee upon the mountain
when thy sheep are the great stars of heaven,
thy horn the sun and moon, and all the fields
bloom as thy glance approves?”

Under meditative graces of the trees, the Psalmist

sat him down without hindrance or favor.
Under his gaze rivers ran glinting among cedars
toward the dark blue paths strewn
with rushes and bordered with white stones.
And who did the Psalmist chance to see walking there
but the Lord and the Lord’s loneliness, that friend
so much like ourselves
and so lost in what cannot be done about it.

The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry



Leslie Williams

The Visitation


Roger Williams

image looking into the uppermost branches of a sparse apple tree. round apples hang lopsidedly and haphazardly on different branches. a hand reaches in to grab one.

Prodigal Ghazal


Jill Peláez Baumgaertner

Row of books in a shelf with a slant of light across them.

This Time on Earth


Dick Allen

Pin It on Pinterest