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Count your things.
Add them up.
Amass a pile of More.
Grab and gather
in forty-nine steps,
the firsts
of your herd,
your horde
your heart.
Count them
in countless succession:
All your best -
Your hopes.
Your sins.
Fill your tent;
load the baskets and bags
with counting
and counted riches that
smell of excess
and succulent
ripeness:
A bursting of Ready,
sweet and sour and sharp
all at once
on your tongue.
Count them all.
Gather them up;
Breathe in
seven breaths of seven
and lay them at
the waiting altar
that stands in the shadow of God.
Lay your counted glory there -
an offering:
a psalm of blessing
and hopeful benediction.
Lay it all down
and fly.
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