September Sun

He sits at his computer, his back to the morning sun.
As he edits a writer’s plea and prayer to bring calm
to hurricane Irma,
a category five threat to coastal Florida,
he sees the sun reflected
on the upper right-hand corner of the screen,
clearly outlined,
a pink globe, suspended, a harmless ornament
decorating the printed words below.
Three days of wood smoke from Washington state’s
raging forest fires,
double-paned glass in the windows,
the computer screen itself,
have diminished the sun’s power,
it seems,
with too many filters.

Is that the way it always is?
Too many filters to see, to experience, light’s
the liberating power of truth,
or the surprising power of God’s love,
reduced now to an ornament
in a world
burgeoning with category fives
and smoke from the fires of a thousand deceptions,
blinding us to the new?


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