At 11 PM
where the morning sun
begins her journey
at the crest of the poplars in the eastern sky...
lay the moon
It lay bathed in a sea of emerald green
and shone with intense brilliance
yellow and on fire
I almost mistook it
for another
Its fullness and light like the Source
but never had I seen it bathed in an emerald sea
laced in a glowing clear brightness
that pierced me clear through
I watched as in a trance
I couldn't move my feet
I didn't want to lose this moment
I watched and waited
I sighed
I groaned
for the beauty
time moves on
I had chores pulling me away
my back to this glory
I walked away
away yet filled
and later
on my trek home
I set down my bucket of milk
warm and foaming
almost spilling in its fullness
like the moon
which lay heavy
caught now in a web of the poplars
I could still see its glory
laced in this web that held it
three days ago it would have been hidden
by Spring's budding
the poplars clothed in their new garments
fresh greenness
thick and lush
a warm cloak
a shield from the sun's hot gaze
but today...
I had felt some sorrow
when the tent caterpillars arrived
I saw them first on the gate post
then saw the tree tops bare
could hear the sound
of their appetites
the steady soft crunch
If I closed my eyes
it was like the contented
grazing of our horses
while on pasture
and I thought how all creatures
must live or die
how all of creation groans and travails in pain
together until now
awaiting the adoption
that is...
the redemption of our bodies
and because these tent caterpillars live today
I can see the moon cupped in the poplar's web
and so I remember that we are held in the Master's hands
and if we live or die
He holds us
I breathe deeply and groan
for the fragrance
the beauty...
this life...
He holds me in an emerald sea
bathed in the moon's glow
always
He holds me
my favourite things
