I tell her
that the moon

is God’s
lost contact lens

and that
the thunder

is Him

rummaging ‘round
in the Heavens

myopically looking for it.

“God is a noisy old devil
isn’t he? ”

“I see! ”
she says.

Considers this
for a bit then:

“Oh Daddy!
you’re being silly again! ”

She scolds in her
mother’s tone.

And takes my hand
walks me down

the road unafraid

as if I were her
three year old.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-road-unafraid-for-lyn/