The day began without me;
dozing ‘til the prayer bell summoned us from sleep.
Dressed hastily against the cold, still unsure
if I would join the monks at Terce; creep
in quietly to the candled transept,
or seek God alone.
Hands thrust in pockets, I chose to keep
an earthy sort of vigil: went to stand
outside and tarry for the dawn.
Found a hard-silvered world beneath a shepherd eye.
Frostbound trees; tarmac stars glittering; the Abbey
cradling worship. Pater noster, thy
kingdom come. We watch and wait for it
in silence broken
only by a distant fox’s cry
and honking geese, drawn south to warmer lands.
Above, sister moon lingers;
loath to leave and miss the birthing of the day.
Together with the dawn, she weaves a mythic light
that falls, Edenic, on the valley;
blood red, as at the world’s beginning.
And I behold it
not like lonely Adam, fresh from clay,
but Eve, who woke
to wondering eyes and outstretched hand.
Image Morning Moon www.2summers.net