Water trickling down into the river:
from clouds God's Spirit, like a dove, descends,
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver.

On the sable hair of our forgiver
droplets form, as Jesus’ baptism sends
water trickling down into the river.

Sunlit torrents pour down from upriver
their roaring origin, in stillness ends,
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver.

The veil rips open, a golden sliver
illuminates – with bright yellow beam-ends–
water trickling down into the river.

Is it the cold Jordan makes me shiver
or do I feel a something that transcends
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver?

I stand and watch from the bank downriver
this man who will make fishermen his friends.
Water trickling down into the river
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver.