POEM: The Summit House, The Lighthouse, The Sailor and The Temptation of Christ

In the mornings
I see the valley filled like a cereal bowl with milk
when I come over the highest points of Holyoke.
From its perch, the Summit House glares down
lighthouse white, it shines and calls out to every
lost soul who looks up at it, seeking direction.

The sailor takes his best girl to the lighthouse
where she asks him: "How ever did you find this place?"
To which the sailor responds:
"I'm a sailor. It found me!"

I imagine what sort of prayer the natives offered up
centuries before me, to give thanks for this sight
of the valley, the sun and the carpeting fog.

Did they believe in grace the way I do?
Did it feel the same way to them as it does to me?
Unaware of what was to unfold for their people,
did they, too, make the mistake of believing
that their old ways would last forever?

Then I pretend that I am with Jesus in the desert
as he is tempted by Satan who offered up the whole world
if Jesus would only drop to his knees and worship him.
I imagine the scene looking just like this one,
looking out over the valley as the world,
the thick dewy fog, the bright Summit House
white as a lighthouse and the sailor with his girl.

This must be what heaven looks like.