Oh, God, really? After whipping up giraffes
and hummingbirds? After forging forests
and icy poles and oceans, for Your sake?

We realize that we sound like Your angelic
cheerleading squad (You’ll beget those later—
just wait—they’ll call it evolution)‚

but that’s the exhaustion talking. Of course,
there’ll be more You’ll poof into life
down there—You’re nothing if not creative,

You, the Creator. You don’t have to know
what the next thing is or the next. When
it’s time, You’ll know, and You’ll make

the next thing. No one’s thinking of You
as a failure—trust us. Yeah, koalas do look
a little goofy, but they’re gonna endear

themselves to humans. Unicorns
are better left to fantasy; zebras now,
that’s a clever turn on a horse.

You just relax and let us fan You with
our snazzy, You-given silver wings.
Hark, the Harold angel, will sing, too.

(We know how You love Harold’s voice.)
Truly, You did good in seven days.
Most of what happens down there

on Your Green Earth won’t be up to You,
though You can bet You’ll be asked
for help when the humans muck it up.

Of course, they’ll muck it up.
Of course, You’ll help. It’s what You do.
Not now, though. After a good nap, OK?