By Carolyn Pinet
What was Noah waiting for anyway?
Isn't it preposterous to cram a whole zoo
into a small space, and float about?
But here we are, the first Sunday of Advent,
asking ourselves what should we really be doing?
Should we be making lists and dashing ahead,
panic stricken that we'll never get it all done?
Still, Emily speaks to us of feathers and hope,
and I'm picturing a rainbow above the ark,
it hangs, a slide of promising, radiant colors.
Here we sit, pilgrims at rest, and time stretches out,
with poinsettias gleaming in a field of red,
while a mother and daughter, on keys and strings,
conjure "Le Cygne" -
a swan glides softly, slowly over water
and we fall in love with a concave, shining mirror.
But listen, now we are raised ever higher:
a glorious organ Toccata buoys us up -
together we float, feathers among blond rafters.
Many thanks to Ilse-Mari & Elizabeth Lee and for Pastor Laura's Sacred Time
"Hope is a thing with feathers..." Emily Dickinson
Le Cygne, Saint-Saens
Festival Toccata, Fletcher
Pilgrim CC, Bozeman, November 27, 2022, Advent