28.

The Pea-Green Light

Elizabeth and I sat on the screened porch.

Just another weekday late afternoon.

Nothing much going on.

Having traversed 93 million miles in eight minutes

universal white light shattered into a billion radiant

fragments in our yard.

The copper-colored sun drifted below ridgeline.

Two flat-bottomed fleecy clouds were anchored securely

above our tree-lined meadow.

Upward-angled rays from the unseen sun caromed

downwardly off both clouds casting refracted color

into the heart of the cove.

Wind-swirled mist flowed through the over-arching

leaf canopy applying a lingering distillation

that magnetized each leaf.

Thus excited the canopy and meadow

and all space in between began to emanate

a pea-green luminescence.

For many minutes we sat watching

as this strange light once again transposed

our everyday world into a dreamscape.

I asked a local fellow if he had ever seen the pea-green light.

“Oh yes,” he said. “We used to see it all the time back when

mother was alive…she said it was a sign that anything might

happen if you’re willing to sit quiet and watch.”