Just another

This is just another town, with
roads, buses, pubs, people, work.
In this enclosed space, God
is not held a prisoner:  he
goes with me wherever I go:
on the train, in my kitchen,
my studio.  There will be
no great revelations here:  let
the dust motes fall softly
hardly to be seen, let the road
rise lightly, gentle in its
gathering, the journey will
unfold in its own season
like a flower.  The still, small
voice is on the soles of my feet,
is in the journeying, which
goes on forever.  Solace
is taking a drink at each
sacred well along the way.

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