Poem by Pete Crowther
The sea is calm, the sun is going down
As side by side we stand upon the shore
And watch each wave take shape, run in, and break
Upon the sand. No clouds just sea and sky
Dissolving in the distance where they meet.
We gaze across the waters to the east
And feel the emptiness of northern seas.
Somewhere out there the moon will rise tonight
And like our pagan forebears long ago
We wait as if a miracle to see.
At first there is a lightness in the sky
Then slowly rising from the sea, the moon
Is there—a white and shining globe of mist
As insubstantial as a wraith. It floats
Impossibly above the far horizon.
With slow solemnity we see it lift
Into the sky, solidify, and turn to gold
And I am minded of the priest at mass
Who kneels then raises high the sacred Host,
Plain wafer bread adored as living God.
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