The sea is calm, the sun is going down <br />As side by side we stand upon the shore <br />And watch each wave take shape, run in, and break <br />Upon the sand. No clouds just sea and sky <br />Dissolving in the distance where they meet. <br /> <br />We gaze across the waters to the east <br />And feel the emptiness of northern seas. <br />Somewhere out there the moon will rise tonight <br />And like our pagan forebears long ago <br />We wait as if a miracle to see. <br /> <br />At first there is a lightness in the sky <br />Then slowly rising from the sea, the moon <br />Is there—a white and shining globe of mist <br />As insubstantial as a wraith. It floats <br />Impossibly above the far horizon. <br /> <br />With slow solemnity we see it lift <br />Into the sky, solidify, and turn to gold <br />And I am minded of the priest at mass <br />Who kneels then raises high the sacred Host, <br />Plain wafer bread adored as living God.<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moonrise-3/
