From
Symonds Yat
the
meandering Wye
like
an imponderable question,
unanswered,
snakes
into the distance.
A
God view of the countryside
its
miniscule blemishes,
in
grace, distanced, unseen,
a
‘green and pleasant land’.
Vantage
advantaged,
we
tower above trees,
gazing
down on their heads
like
the top tier of a theatre
while,
below, the enactment of day
continues
to flow. Unknowing,
unaware
of God’s gaze,
through
the eyes of his child,
and
the prayer of sight,
the
blessing persists.
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