But speaking of things holy, so was the school staffroom I was in this morning, the offices and friends I visited there, the grocery store where I picked up vegetable trim for the pigs, the international student dinner I attended, the evening lecture by Dr. Robert Joseph at TWU on Reconciliation with our First Nations people and the warm and comfortable bed, all of these, afire with the mystery of a God who is here. I bow my head.
The place that I was standing is holy ground.
The bush afire.
No longer green and heavy with blue
but red and gold and yellow with light, now dying.
For this day only,
as days shorten
nights cool and
winter’s death comes to leaf and plant.
But for today
the rows are holy.
I slip off my boots and wait
till he appears.