Made in the image

Why --
when the dog barks
and I look out my window
to see what set him off
and spot instead
the moon,
lifting her golden bucket
and pouring streaks of light
across the lagoon --
why do I not step outside
to sit on my bench
and drink that liquid joy?


Why reach for a camera,
when I know it can't begin
to capture the color
that sings through all that light;
can't begin to capture the wonder of that first sighting?
Or is it enough
to grab a glimpse,
a frail and faulty image,
so that seeing we might imagine
the truth that lies behind --
much as we,
seeing other beings
made in the image of God,
can begin to imagine
the Truth that lies behind...