She awakens early

and frets that God

will be late again

turning on the sun.

So much to do.

Yesterday, He let the rain

run over long,

flooding Brazil 

and drowning the cat.

Now his goldfish are dying.

She stands at the door of His room,

watching His lumpish rise and fall,

and her heart and the earth quake.

She withdraws

to bake His bread

and prays He will survive

his teenage years.