by Leonard M Hawkes
Because we knew, we gathered,
And we waited for the fading of the light--
But we felt it before we saw it--
And as the greens transformed themselves to grays,
And as the hills turned blue and darkened,
And when the far horizon resembled the dusk;
We spoke of the wonder—
The wonder of those who saw and did not know.
But even with our knowledge, the chill crept inward,
And as the fence line russets deepened,
The stars came out,
And the remaining sun blazed white with intensified brilliance.
“No wonder they were terrified,”
We said in arrogant modernity, “But we know.”
But the gloom penetrated,
And we sensed the mystery of the sudden darkness.
And even with the knowledge that the light would come again,
Our confident hearts were humbled,
For we too knew
That we were very, very small.
Author's Note: Sitting with a group of Mormons on a hill above the Snake River near Idaho Falls, ID.
Posted on 08/22/2017
Copyright © 2020 Leonard M Hawkes
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by George Hoerner on 08/22/17 at 07:32 PM|
I like this a lot Leonard! Very nicely done and wish I had been there. I hope all is well.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/27/17 at 12:52 AM|
Indeed! We saw about 99% and that was humbling and magnificent and no one here on earth could change its outcome and I found that a splendid thing.