The music finishes.
It is the quiet of night
Broken by the ticking of a clock,
the hiss of rain,
the growling of a distant car.
The silence of this interval
is not for doing,
not for resting
But to wonder in;
A vulnerable silence
given back to us.
What did you find in the fields today,
you who have wandered so far away?
I found a wind-flower, small and frail,
and a crocus cup like a holy grail;
I found a hill that was clad in gorse,
a new-built nest, and a streamlet's source;
I saw a star and a moonlit tree;
I listened... I think God spoke to me.