Bridges

Sitting in the yard as the sky transitions from twilight into night – the bridge of conversation and quiet watching between us – we  never cease to be amazed as an owl bridges the space from house to oak, then from oak to owl box.

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Mountains in front of us bridge the horizon from east to west.

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Watching, we see the North Star directly above the owl box, the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia bleeding their reflected light into the darkening sky; stars bridging the sky as far as we can see.

Blinking lights – white, green, red – reveal the path of planes as they bridge the spaces between the stars, seeming to knit them together with invisible thread to hold the universe.

A bridge – a transition – between the seen and unseen = faith.

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