The moon surprised me just above the trees, pale against the light blue dusk,
brightening with each moment, almost full.
My little daughter’s bed brimming with moonlight;
a painting of softness to lay and dream in:
as if Christ reclined in the glow of our prayers,
spilling light,
reflecting off our globed hearts
of crusted rock.
The tenderness of pearling light takes us in every month
on its way around our going around
the still point
of God within.
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