Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Lynne Bachleda, gifted anthologist and impressive poet/writer, includes the following reverie on nature as divine reality, in her latest book titled "Canticles of the Earth: Celebrating the Presence of God in Nature." This exquisite collection includes striking excerpts from many writers, from ancient times to the modern era. It is a highly inspiring volume, beautiful in design and execution. I recommend it highly. (It is readily available from Amazon and others.)
The big star has retired after a glorious day. Dragonflies swoop to navigate the lesser winds of a cooler sky. An anhinga, heron, or crane (so much has slipped under the tide) stands at the ready beside his old fisherman, the buddy who slipped him a whole fish. After pausing to savor his luck, the bird tossed it back like a shot of tequila. Their simple relationship dominates this patch of shore. The old man now oblivious, the creature devoted. Soft dianthus pink and slate and dusky green hold their bond.
"Saltwater sees home.
Stirs itself to recognition,
Surges well in my eyes, sure."
It's easy to tell the worshippers here. They visit all day. In this church frequency counts more than duration. Staring out at the simplest of compositions, the dominant design, we who know are still crawling out or trying to crawl back in. It's a lover's warmth or smiling voice. You know it exists without you, but your need is total and nonetheless.
Last light fades. The page glows, but not for long. The breath of God still moves with power. Stirs these waves and makes music in this haunting night.
(copyright, F. Lynne Bachleda)