Luke 8: 19-39
The whole town is astir, and in the air
a murmur, awe, and wide eyes all around.
We were all shut in tight against the pound
of wind and rain and lightning everywhere.
It wasn’t the tempest’s rage that makes us stare
in wonder – that was natural – but the sound
of sudden silence, perfect and profound
as if in answer to a sailor’s prayer.
Over the lake, the sunrise glories warm
the water and earth, and we can hear a cry
whimper from near the tombs. He is awake.
Our herd of pigs, led out after the storm,
rolls in the mud under a clear blue sky.
And there’s a boat just landing on the lake.