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On Living in the Township of Heaven
by Gary B. Puckett
AURORA BOREALIS
It was our last night in Petosky
a chilly night
So I sat in the trailer
reading the paper
until Kathy came back from doing some chore
and asked me if I had seen them
Seen what?
The Northern Lights
No, I had not
and never had
Fearful that these lights of
legend
might flicker once or twice like an old fluorescent tube
and then expire
I popped out of our canvas cocoon
to verify this marvelous rumor
and it was marvelous
For a few moments
I stood on the edge of a growing crowd of spectators
that was gathering the midst of the trailers
but the glare of the security lights
and the glaring errors of a few scientific commentators
drove me to seek refuge in deeper darkness
The path took me to the beach
and as I walked across the sand
bright pinpoints of light from the far side of Little Traverse
bay
caught my attention
Their intensity pulled my gaze
down to the horizon
for a moment
but pinpoints of intensity are no match
for ripply sheets of grandeur draped across the night
The shimmering light filled
the sky from East to West
from baseboard to ridge pole
and as I watched, it danced above me
enchanting me with its gentle movements
and as it sang its silent song
it showed me things no thunderstorm ever could
It showed me my place in the
township of Heaven
and I could see that it is a small place
not small in significance
yet small in proportion
a good thing to know
when even the small problems of my life
seem monumental
More than that
I could see that this small place of mine
is in some far suburb of that township
not in the center
Which surprises me every time I notice it
After all
When I look around at my life, through these eyes
The place where I stand seems to be the center of it all
the hub around which the great wheel must turn
An illusion?
Yes, and a convincing one
but one that yields to overwhelming physical evidence
of the contrary
I stood there on the beach a
while longer
Until fatherly instinct sent me
back to find my little family
and leaving the blessed darkness of the beach
I returned to the blindness of a well lit world
Yes, night lights keep us from
stumbling
when the darkness is thick
and our bladders are full
and security lights give us a feeling of safety
in an uncertain world
But sometimes we must turn out the lights
and step into the darkness
and listen for a still small voice
Otherwise we will be transfixed
by the glare
of our own headlights
and miss the shimmering grandeur
of the county of God
that ripples across the vaults of heaven
just above us
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