A Meditation: For A Quiet Hour

I can hear a chorus of palm fronds / Directed by the wind / Solos sung by Mosquitoes/ Crickets banging their drums;

Oh aren’t there stars / Shining somewhere? / And I know you are here, / Sitting on this patio with / Porch lights, a holy candelabra, / Cigarette incense wafting towards the watching moon. 

We aren't / either of us / Limited

To what the world says we are. / In this way / I am made Imago Dei, / Sacred

Chords played only / In harmonics, / A sermon on what’s possible / If we tickle the steely strings of this life / With tenderness.

Oh the sun’s gon’ rise / No matter who is watching;

Let me be / So bold / As to shine for none but / Myself, 

Being who I was made to be / Hot soft light / layers hidden behind heavy clouds. 

God of wonders / hidden in plain sight, / Sit a while longer with me

In this quiet hour.

Let us watch for dawn together / Spirit open and eyes shut. 

I know you have much to do, / Still / Stay a while with me.

Oh what pleasant company / a godling makes at the setting of a moment / at the eve of what is done.

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