SUNDAY SERVICE

The road

shaped to a slope

divides.

Monhegan House, Trailing Yew,

Mrs. Cundy’s Cottage-

windows over

walls of darkened roses.

We step from church

into our galaxy,

which here includes

the scattered lamps of town.

Our unspoiled night

can still declare God’s glory:

distant waves

sounding for all the world

like wind in spruce tops,

or wind in spruce tops,

sounding like the waves;

a smell of salt,

of drying fish-nets,

a sense of vast Atlantic reaches

under fixed or falling stars.

With flashlights lit,

we find our ways,

in all directions,

home.

Alonzo Gibbs

One thought on “SUNDAY SERVICE — Alonzo Gibbs”

“Our unspoiled night
can still declare God’s glory”

This reminds me of when the lights were still very “low” on Monhegan, the presence of electric lights still being mostly non-existent. I get the distinct impression that Alonzo was referring to the difference between Monhegan and the mainland in this respect. He captured the feeling so well of emerging “into our galaxy.” One night several years ago I went to dinner at the Inn with my parents. When we came out after the sun had set my head literally jerked back in response to the sky, which had exploded with stars. There were no clouds and the moon must have been absent at the time.

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