I will make rivers well up on barren heights.
And fountains in the midst of valleys.
Today after mass in my mind’s eye I seemed to see distant sights.
There was no need for verbal sallies.

The priest sat quietly for a time, all was still and silent.
I love this moment.
A great well of joy wells up in the atmosphere of content.
Even quiet merriment.

In Bonnard’s painting the Bowl of Milk.
All is still, Mediterranean light streams in.
Meligny stands alone unmoving, her dress as restful as silk.
The cat waits, perhaps for his milk, with a little grin.

The priest’s meditation was a moment in service time.
The painting is just such a moment of quiet after wartime.