Touching the Divine

half-round, the moon hangs
low on the horizon
I catch a glimpse, look closer, and
am taken back a week to
when it lit the sky full,
round, clear; when it seemed
close enough to touch, as in a
mountain lake on a
perfectly calm night when you
reach into the water,
touching the moon, and sending
ripples across the reflected sky
just as the water ripples
across the bowl ... font ... ever time
I touch that storied, holy
water
          as I touch the water,
tentatively or boldly, I reach,
perhaps longing to touch the divine
just like children, in awe,
gingerly approach our
crèches, seeing the shepherds
surrounding Mary and Joseph, but
reaching directly to the center
longing (as maybe we all do)
just to touch the divine