The Theology of Delight by Scott Cairns

Imagine a world, this ridiculous,
tentative bud blooming
in your hand. There in your hand, a world
opening up, stretching, after the image
of your hand. Imagine
a field of sheep grazing, or a single sheep
grazing and wandering in delight
of grass, of wildflowers
lifting themselves, after their fashion,
to be flowers. Or a woman, lifting her hand
to touch her brow, and the intricacy
of the motion that frees her
to set the flat part of her hand carelessly
to her brow. Once, while walking, I happened
across a woman whose walking had brought her
to a shaded spot near a field. Enjoying
that cool place together, we sat watching sheep
and the wind moving the wildflowers in the field.
As we rose to set out again, our movement
startled the flock into running; they ran
only a little way before settling again
to their blank consideration of the grass.
But one of them continued, its prancing
taking it far into the field where,
free of the others, it leapt for no clear reason,
and set out walking through a gathering
of flowers, parting that grip of flowers with its face.