The First Cathedral
Look up. Under trees – clear night – early morning – stale afternoon – look up. Clouds and sun – look up. Limbs brush companions with the slightest touch. Movements almost imperceptible express flow from one to another. A caress that encloses an instant of time. Neither intent nor threat interrupts this gift from one to another. Neither demons nor angels enter this space. Look up and listen. Look up and see. Look up and receive their gift to us.
What we leave behind when we enter a building we regain when we walk towards trees.
While I Was Gardening 