Reflection 10th August 2014

Lake Petworth, Sunrise
After J.M.W. Turner

In the last minutes of dawn, deer come
To drink the cold waters, fog lapping round
Them like the darkness of old woods. They’ve waited
All night to slake their thirst. But when the sun
Cuts through the mist that softens the world’s edge,

They vanish—lost like prayers we don’t remember,
Blind to desire in the blunt light of day.
Matthew Brennan

(Reflections are provided each week by a member of the congregation.)

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