Bare, jagged branches search the sky.
Stars prick the close black blue.
Grey shadow sheep hunch for the night.
Now, God, what will you do?

We want you to sort out our wars
and make our cities new.
We want good wine and apple pies
and lots of money too.

We want the world run on our terms,
Illusions screened, on cue.
We want all bad to turn to good
and problems to be few.

No magic in my universe.
Each present evil grew
Within your hearts and minds and eyes.
I’ll come and be with you.

You love, we kill; you care, we don’t.
We want you out of view.
We wave our wands and mutter spells
and hope you are not true.

My grass is rustled by the wind
and glistens white with dew.
Some joyful gasps, a tiny child.
My Son is now a Jew.