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?