the dark morning
lifted slightly by
the tropical breeze
and then taken
in by the Morning Star --
Venus -- "a center of brilliance" --
in all her glory.
And I sunk in, couldn't
release my eyes,
and prayed.
I imagined she
cast a long pale light
on the lake. I stared --
could it be so? This
distant planet shining
a streak here in Fort Myers?
(I almost called my
husband to confirm, but
didn't want to pull him out
of bed. Besides, I decided
I was seeing things.)
And I finished my prayers,
recalled it was Easter,
took a last look at the sky,
and thought, Didn't they
call Jesus the Morning Star?
Back inside, I opened River Flow
to the next David Whyte poem:
"Light Over Water."
How did he know?
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