Rock'em Sock'em Easter Robots
He is Risen!

Leap for joy, Purple Mountain, at the news which echoes in your valleys.
Wriggle like jello, make your stony edifice as spry as his resurrected flesh.
Can you ring with the royal exuberance of this day?
Can you quiver with all Creation at what the Lord has done?

Oh suburban blades of grass, shout to God in mutant shades of green!
Well-manicured and overgrown alike,
Publish your praise to cul-de-sacs of soccer moms in their Sunday finest.

Little seeds in the earth, sing as you germinate!
For you follow the example of our Lord and King.
Forget the pesticides and poisons of our age,
The well-meaning, but often misfired genetic experiments.
Luxuriously unravel in the dirt of this creation,
You, little mustard seed, foreshadow the coming kingdom.

Awkward flapping pink flamingos,
Charging bison, though few there are of you,
Loch Ness monster, wherever you are, living or legend,
Unfurl the bigness, the weirdness, the wonder of your lankly limbs,
Praise God with splashes and screams and stampedes.
Bask in the beautiful sunrise of this morning, and reflect His goodness,
The hairy, feathery, scaly hides that God has given you
Prove his playful provision.

Dance! Dance all you creatures of the earth!
Whether big or small, odiferous or funny looking,
Dance like you have never danced before.
Daisies and dandelions, cut loose in the morning breeze.
Little army of dust mites marching tirelessly across my room,
Do twists and somersaults as part of your processional.
Neon Amazonian tree frogs, bust a move on the belly of a three-toed sloth.
Deadbeat druggie in Loomis, nearly blind through the smog of a higher high,
Feel the explosion of God’s mercy in your feet,
Lifting you to some unpredictable and unprecedented spasm of groove.

As for me, all I can do is write a poem
As I sit, stark and sleepless for excited expectation.
The Son is coming, and soon, all the world will be filled
with the light His presence
with the aroma of His feast.
He’s making pancakes for everyone, the amazing pancakes of life.
He’s crying out to all who live the story
“Come and party with the God of the Universe!”
And He points His spatula to the sky.