Baby Pictures of a Universe

We will reach back into time and hope
to catch echoes of the hand of God,
just after the swizzling of the waters,
after joyfully making many
 
He hung the planets on trees of light  
while shy galaxies peep from behind  
cosmic cliffs, waiting, the wakes of each  
finger limning ghostly jets and swirls
 
We see his breath in nurseries of stars,  
here was a god pleased with handiwork,  
creating not yet soured by creation
Did he balk before making the man?
 
Did he sigh when it crawled out, traded
fins for limbs, gills for lungs, when it grew  
ribs and the consciousness for clothing  
loins, for turf and territories?
 
Was he a chucklesome god before  
being god to man? Before wielding  
the flood, ruing with the rainbow before  
he needed to confound with babel?