Holy Saturday Prose-Poem by Carolan

Carolan wrote this to me in an email:


Here is what I wrote on Holy Saturday. 

I just watched the most beautiful moon rise over the valley, edged by the mountains that hide the vastness of The Bob Marshall from the curious masses.  I stood under a huge Ponderosa, feet mounted in crusty snow, hands pocketed, eyes reverent to the hungry moon.  He devoured clouds on his proud rise, bit one right in the middle, a snack en-route to all things miraculous.  

"Jesus Christ," I whispered in wonder, and I remembered, hey, that's right, Jesus Christ rises from the dead in a few hours, just like this magnificent moon, and there will be a curious light in the darkness and all shadowy things will take on a grand beauty to stage the rise.  

Let me glow in the light of the moon, the God, the Savior, the love and the soul of the mountainous sky.  

Too much?  But my heart overflows.

That's all!  As I read over it, it seems a bit dramatic ... it was glorious.  Right behind the Rich Ranch.