Andrew Wong
Pomona
In the living room
the balcony door yawns open
And evening coolness sweeps in
The kid downstairs is smoking again
like an acolyte swinging a censer
Thick incense fills the room
encircling me
Suddenly I am aware of holiness
in this place
In a moment my eyes can see
What always was, only gently hidden
Love and Presence fill this block
hover over it
Teeming with life
Its existence worship and invitation
Drawn to the balcony
as if to an altar
Resting my hands on the railing
with its chipped paint
I peer into the dusk
the palm trees are silhouetted against a fading horizon
Surely, God is in this place.
Photo by Lillian Grace