Amidst the usual evening business,
there was a moment of golden light,
when all the chaos of messy meals—
my baby climbing out of her high chair,
little chubby limbs besmeared with mango
and requiring yet another bath,
as the phone rang and the water boiled,
and the seven-year-old pontificated
on the merits of trampolines
vs slip and slides for summer safety—
all this ceased to grab my attention,
which was caught by the light of a far-off star,
speeding across millions of miles of space
to gaze at me on my porch this evening,
a glowing orange ball
peeking through the dark fir trees.
I paused to gaze back.
My daughter sped around the porch
on her running bike,
her tongue running fast as her feet
to describe her tricks in real time
—but I had stepped out,
and was steeped in golden light—
“I am here, all along; I am here,”
spoke the universe calmly,
all its diverse particles coming together
to deliver me this caress of beauty
from the halls of eternity.
Just East Of Crazy Land 