– 1 –

Look at that moon! And over there, Venus is a diamond. While this campfire warms my feet, the breeze nods itself to sleep, and the river (whose unceasing flow is an unremarked inspiration) hushes along on its gentle, downhill slide…

There is much to be said of city life — but the less said, the better.

We can make smaller circles in the trees, just out of sight of those agitated centers. Here where embraces are slower and quieter, where we do more to nourish ourselves and our neighbors, and less to stoke a Machine whose engines carry others to others’ destinations.

Just look around me: such fine weather the country season brings: I think it’s time to dig the garden in.

– 2 –

Right here (right now) the moon is the greatest show on earth, with free admission, and freely shared with an entire hemisphere. My little blaze of windfall timber is its local echo.

Oh! And there’s my namesake Mars! So the dance of heaven’s bodies (mostly missed in street-lit bustle) marks time in its intricate step, from a past so distant humankind has yet to be imagined, to a future so far ahead our triviality is guaranteed.

Be gentle with each another, Humans; and gentle with all that shares your tiny planet. Forget what you are told of scarcity: a fable to hide the hoarders’ art. The sun and the earth simply give and give and give.

The combustion of every cell of you gives and gives and gives. Your mind is taught to fear; your body just lives.

– 3 –

‎… and while we’re watching (for a change) here’s the Hunter and his bright-eyed Dog, heading west, getting ready to leave the stage. He’s sweeping up the leaves and frost the winter’s left behind, and where his footsteps turn up soil, the jonquils and the lilies have already begun to smile! The tulips that someone planted, to decorate a different year, have buds fit to burst, waiting for just a little more rain, a little more warmth.

Our slightest attention makes ripe earth flourish… and if I ignore it, she flourishes anyway! There’s the church into which I was born, that waits quietly for me (when I am away) to walk across the threshold, to say a prayer not in speaking but in-being. No god I know demanded I should prove my birth; and no god I worship will say that I, or my daughter or son, or any one of you, are less perfect than the moon that lights this night, the water running naturally downhill (as I do: as you do), or the wood that by some miracle is consumed and warms my night.

Forms are wonderful, these forms that we create. Yet still more wonderful: the formless that is equal part of us, that by acknowledging, cures us of complaint.

– 4 –

I lie back, my feet warmed at that fire, and gaze into a heaven that is deep as it is great. I wish that you were here (son, or daughter, or any one of you), so this next log could be shared, its crackle and spark the only words; under stars we imagine silent, but whose song is as loud as sight.

Together we might commune this service, whose liturgy is made of life, and whose hymn is borne on the air, chanted in a language that no creature need decipher. Celebration in that church is without ceremony and without a tithe; it asks everything you have, while it accepts (and disregards) all complaints.

But then — it is shared, if you step into the night. Don’t wait! Nothing more important need be done, no matter you imagine you are late… or not loved enough… or lone…

Look at that moon!

There: I’ve added logs to build the fire, and help the flame inside of us burn higher.

– 5 –

The fire is burning down. I let its life consume itself: that’s what lives and fires do.

The birches at my back dress the moon’s silver, over the flames’ gold hue, and the gathering chill reminds me there’s a home, just down the hill, where a wood stove I left lit warms my rooms, waiting for anything my night would have me do.

You were here, you know. As welcome round my little ring as anything. I speak for me, but spoke to you. What fire allowed, the stream of fireside words provides: a small retreat from haste, and a gift to draw my loved ones to my side.

God’s Night.

“Firelight” by Suzo @ deviantart.com

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