Counting the stars

Last night I woke and stood on the deck outside the chapel.

 

The night was still.

No sounds save the gentle Ngatiawa tumbling its way down to the Sea,

and a lonely owl haunting the quiet valley.

 

The night was clear.

Dark forests towered above me, silhouetted against the star-lit sky.

The half-moon, hidden beneath the Eastern hills, shone its light on a few drifting clouds.

In the North West, Orion completed his leisurely cartwheel,

leading the train of the Milky Way in its never-ending, spiralling dance.

 

The night was blessed.

So too, I.

 

Who am I that the heavens should lay on their magnificent performance just for me to see –

Unique in that moment of calm?