© MARK THOMPSON/EYEEM/GETTY IMAGES
The moon came up
through the winter trees
as I walked the wooded trail
that night.
And then, just above,
the little saw-whet owl
flew to her perch,
cocked her head this way
to spy down at the strange man
standing still, just below.
Yet now, we were no longer strangers.
I had looked into the small bird’s moon-bright eyes:
Wonder of wonders—for that single moment.
Later, I thought our prayers
sometimes are answered in much this way.
No more a stranger.
Wonder of wonders—in that perfect moment.
And we walk with God,
with that pure and perfect Love divine—
that Love which never fails us:
the soft moon lighting our path,
quietly along the wooded trail.
And all the way ahead stands clear.
—William E. Moody
