John Garth Raubenheimer
For Rebecca Scarberry... Author Of Messages From Henry
I can't find my copy
of de Saint Exupery's 'Wind, Sand, and Stars'
(perhaps I gave it to our church) .
So - as a fellow-writer you'll appreciate -
I've done a little research.
Well... I googled it, okay.
It's his story of three Saharan Moors
who were flown to the French Alps
and led by their guide
up to a tremendous waterfall.
They stood transfixed.
Back home they'd march for days
to find a muddy pool of water
mixed with camel urine, to drink.
'That's all there is to see, '
their guide said,
'We must wait.'
'Wait for what? '
When - they were wondering -
would God grow weary of His madness?
I have a picture of these men -
squatting; sitting down
to observe cross-legged
the perpetual miracle;
their guide faltering
suffering the earth-bound quandary of
whose plans for their charges have gone wrong.
And I have a picture of you,
- one perhaps singular to me,
as I contemplate the shuttering of my twitter-feed:
sitting with your three cats
- lulled into sleepy cat-delight...
draped over the blanket
you have draped across your knees
to shield them from the thin, March wind...
close to the impasse-annihilating spray
of your waterfall
your mind excited, charged,
the miracle, unfolding on your page.
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