Always

The air is cool and the evening dark.
Only an hour after sunset
the sky is indigo black,
laced with high cumulus clouds
faintly glowing with light from a waxing gibbous moon
bright in the zenith above.

I walk my rent money over to the office
of ‘The Binfords’ where I live,
an old fashioned neighborhood
of ivy-covered white stucco row houses
built about the year I was born,
sixty-one years ago.

Calm is the night, the air faintly tinged
with the smell of suppers
cooking in kitchens as I pass,
the pale lamplight contrasting
with the deeply textured trunks
of giant evergreens lining the path.

Up a stair here,
down another there,
as my walk meanders over roots
that insist on having the right of way,
and have been obligingly paved over.
In these shadows,
if I didn’t know my way,
I might have tripped.

Ranging in the western heavens,
brightly shining, astonishingly luminous and clear,
Venus, looking so close
it makes the vast universe seem small,
a homey place, an astrological garden
planted for His wayward and wandering children
by the great God and gardener,
Jesus Christ.

I feel little but protected,
His love not being doled out grudgingly
as by a measuring and weighing deity,
but by the Lord of all,
to whom size is of no consequence,
nor renown, nor accomplishments, nor wealth,
nor even manly wisdom,
only that we exist,
only that we live, facing Him with trust and thanksgiving,
willing to receive all that He generously gives,
happy to see Him when He appears,
shining in the stars like tonight,
or in the eyes of our brothers and sisters,
creatures like us,
each infinitely different.

The eight psalms of the first day of the month,
the ones I know best,
even by heart,
unravel themselves in no particular order
as I trace my path homewards,
and pacify my soul.

My life is simple,
adheres to stillness,
and finds refuge like the hidden inhabitants of forest trees,
unheard and unseen,
and free.

The care of the Creator God envelopes me
like the strong yet gentle arms of the Bridegroom
that open to receive His Bride,
doting on her as His one and only,
both of them unaware
of anything or anyone outside themselves,
because their love contains multitudes,
includes all.

There is nothing and nowhere
outside this House that the Lord has made,
no roads long and weary laden with the remorse of parting,
only His way, always arriving, always leading Home
where, always welcome,
I live forever.
x