The mountains leapt like a ram.
And the hills like yearling sheep.
Behold the holy lamb.
The baby in the womb will leap.

I am standing in front of the Madonna del Parto.
She is heavy with glorious  child, let trumpets sound.
The hope of the world is wonder lo.
No longer in her church , air conditioned museum bound.

The determined angels stand guard.
Her garment under the blue, white for purity.
His fate is truly starred.
All that is gentle but mighty.

All is perfect , symmetrical.
But her face is sad , the future she can tell.

…..

See the Madonna
The genius of Piero
The hope of the world

…..

See Psalm 114