For Tim

Moonlight streaming across a midnight lake
Stars sprinkled like buttercups on glass
Without taking my eyes away,
I slip the paddle alongside my canoe
And push myself along midst holiness

Look up...
For there is glory in the heavens
Look up...
For there is beauty beyond this earth
For though the mud is where our roots are
The mud cannot be where we remain
For though the water nourishes and fills us
We are not fish nor creeping things

Look up...
We spring toward the stars instinctively
For in us we know that mud and water
Is not all that there is
Nor all that can be....

Uncle Tom