My little girl is singing in the shower.
Her young voice is lifted up in joy.
I smile in joy to hear her talents flower,
Though I confess the blooms sometimes annoy.
But as I look at reports of the world,
Not works of nature so much as devotees'
Of the Stupid God that are unfurled
As a banner marking ends to thinking pleas,
My smile fades. My daughter's stays in place;
She does not know what is or what may come
Save that she is loved, that on her face,
Such tears as may are swept by thumb
Aside. All I can do my daughter to preserve
From the Stupid God, she well deserves.