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In the still summer night, above and around quiet house-hives,
glow the leaves of green and green and green
lauded by a chorus

mighty hymns in katydid, cricket, and locust.

A lithe night biker on silent wheels
glides in and out of the lights of the quiet side streets
silhouetted, spotlit, vanished, and
silhouetted, spotlit, vanished, and silhouetted, spotlit, vanished.

magic lantern of phantom flashes
rapid Houdini of shadows
graceful eagle of thermals
never heard,
and seen as in a dream.

Around a corner,
and the gentle electric bass throbs
a faraway whisper of heavy-metal revelry
mixes and melds with,
then carries the katydid chorus.

it moans, then pants
then, tired, turns to laughter.
bacchanalia of a distant block, but soothing descant to the nightsong.

A constellation of highlights on the leaves
rushes toward me as I walk,
a starfield of reflected lamplight, expanding, like the universe itself,
in formation, like an armada of fighters

before me, now above me, now behind me,
their lights contracting and shrinking to tree,
as always seen, but never seen.

I bathe, wonderstunned, by Your green and green and green.

I am awash in
the lamplight,
the starlight,
the hivelight.

afloat in the television-blue windows of the proud-modest househives.
red-glowing, gold-glowing, amber, bronze and silver-glowing
portals of proud-modest boxes of life.

I drown in Your moonlight,
moonlight above my head, moonlight beneath my feet.
silver star-points, black pits, and blue plains in the friendly-worn sidewalk.

beneath my feet, beneath my head,
inside Your green and green and green.

Lord,

kill me now, and it is birth!
slay me now, into true life!
bury me now in this heaven!

and yet

yet I wonder—

why?

why?

nine hundred people died this week in Greece.

© jon zuck
kent, 1995