During this time of seemingly non-stop bummers, of disease and unease, dreary with fear, a little drop of joy can feel like a revolutionary act.
Into High Country
Whenever I head up into high country my doubts
stay in the valley behind me. For miles around me
a greening kingdom of corn and clover extends,
bounded by barns and sugarbush. And up above
a whole other world hangs, continents of cumulus
broken by bright blue seas of sky. Who made this?
Who can say? The next turn runs up the High Peaks,
up into the world of wind where cloud shadows
dapple the shoulders of the mountains, where bald
summits of granite shine. If God so loved this world,
why should I not also love? Having never seen God,
only creation, all I know of sweet shalom lies here.