Playful, Pius or Remembered Stuff

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Sunday, July 4, 2010

Ronan, MT

Ronan, MT – August, 1992

The shadow of these mighty peaks
Caress our sleeping town
By this our mighty Maker speaks
The God of great renown.

The Summer sight is soft to see
With green coniferous fir
But Winter’s coat for every tree
Wet ermine dresses her

Distant mountains elsewhere seen
Often seem out of reach
Foothills always stand between
Our view and modify the breach.

But these crags of stone we tally
Jut with starkest erection
From the floor of Mission Valley
Perpendicular direction

They bite the dawn with jagged teeth
Like stony capped incisors
Whose time-lapse movement from beneath
Escapes astute surmisers

The silt of centuries compressed
Are raised by the shrinking plate
Deeper spirits seeing God expressed
Are compelled to contemplate

The patient God who worked now speaks
O beauty, might and majesty
And he, desiring God, who seeks
Is certain to the Maker see.

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