Rain fell slow and steadily on earth and through its last they remained indoors and shelter of the home. They kept the hearth full in burn, dry wood stacked and staged beside. It’s burn and heat compounded in room, most strong before hearth and lessening in distance from hearth and flame.
Front door of the oaken home was open allowing escape of the heat, view of the fall, and too scents of the sodden rain surroundings: damp of the trees—scent known to those with memories but one, in words, he could define—leaves, matted grasses, suspend and permeate of rain even in its fall.
Silhouetted in backdrop of door view, she sat on sill, back leant in rest to vertical rise of frame; body dry and in between dry home and warmth’s escape and, too, world’s rain and cool in sensing to her front and outward facing side.
Even in backdrop of sky shadows and gray, she was beautiful in presence: brown of her sweater in body cover and wear, loose and broad of its collar that, even in tempered light and shadow of world-sky, detailed shade of her collar-line and insinuations of soft-depressioned delicate behind; the bare of her legs, long and fine in length and folded in her sit; pearl fabric-tone that covered where they met.
Sunday morning, no church near to the place, he read from a Missal in seek of God and openness to Spirit’s sign-commune.
Before begin, he gazed on her for moment more: beautiful in repose even in frame of gray and somber of the fall.
From Book of Wisdom, he read:
“Resplendent and unfading is wisdom, and she is readily perceived by those who love her, and found by those who seek her. She hastens to make herself known in anticipation of the desire; whoever watches for her at dawn shall not be disappointed, for he shall find her sitting by his gate. For taking thought of wisdom is the perfection of prudence, and whoever for her sake keeps vigil shall quickly be free from care; because she makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her, and graciously appears to them in he ways, and meets them with all solicitude.”[i]
Struck by the Word, Wisdom was perceived—resplendent and unfading, beautiful in rest of sill, opened gate of home.
He looked on Her at dawn and, even in rain, was not disappointed. He took thought of Her, desired Her then. Keeping vigil, he rose and added fuel of wood to hearth. Hiss from the bark and pop of the dried grain sounded as wood added took to flame, and to the sounds, she turned.
From sit at gate, she smiled, a countenance of serenity that shone bright, of its own warmth and light, even in frame of sodden gray.
Fire stoked, vigil kept, he returned to place and seat in further reading of the Word; and to his spirit’s searching, Wisdom rose, and from gate’s rest graciously, appeared.
Making herself known, solicitude of spirit, he made space in desire for her presence; respondent to Wisdom’s seek of he that She deemed worthy.
Straddle of seat, pearl’s draw aside, his hands’ rise and find and strong-grasp take beneath loose cover of the brown until arms’ raise and stripping away unto awe and beauty of under; his lips to hers, then fall to collar and pocket-delicate behind, hands’ firm grasp and holding still as in love and Spirit they proclaimed live-manifest of Psalm.
“…for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts like earth, parched, lifeless and without water.
Thus have I gazed toward you in the sanctuary to see your power and glory, for your kindness is a greater good than life; my lips shall glorify you.
Thus will I bless you while I live; lifting up my hands, I will call upon your name. As with the riches of a banquet shall my soul be satisfied, and with exultant lips my mouth shall praise you.
I will remember you upon my couch, and through the night-watches I will meditate on you: You are my help, and in the shadows of your wings I shout for joy.”[ii]
[i] Wisdom 6: 12-16
[ii] Psalm 63: 2-8 (taken from the first reading and Psalm from the Catholic Missal for the Thirty-Second Week, Year A, in Ordinary Time)