***
On cold worn pavement my
clumsy foot stumbles on
a crack, whose line and spintering path
You stretched out with careful thumb and forefinger
from end to end, whose jagged rambles are the
slashes of Your furious joyful pen.
You have named each pebble packed like
closely knitted stitches into the sunbaked slab;
You know from which ancient mountain it was
hewn, and in which field, fertile or
fallow, it will rest as dust.
***
inputoutputmodule 
I like this poem too, I like the idea of moving outward from the particular mundane to the universal perspective. Or put another way, how the infinite mind of God can be seen in something small and finite.
I don’t think the herded cattle metaphor fits just right in this poem though. It seems to move away from the economy of imagery in the other lines.
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I am considering a revision, but I am not sure yet. Ultimately the poem is not merely about the mundane, but also about the unfortunate, the powerless, and the decaying. For God is sovereign, too, not just over pleasantries and provision but over death and destruction. So I don’t know. Perhaps you are right, it does seem the tiniest bit out of place, but I haven’t decided yet. Thanks for your criticism. I will consider it carefully.
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Maybe this is better? I think you are right, it was an ill-fitting metaphor.
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yes, much better. That line previously took me outside of the poem, now it is more of a piece with the whole.
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