Late October Blessing

Jet trails mark the heavens

with straight, white lines that intersect

in the late October sky.

Such cruel geometry that cuts

the blue, stamping out a triangle here

and a rhombus there.

For a sky resists such partitioning,

holds fast to expanse,

and lays claim to a presence

both shapeless and endless.

It is true that within minutes

these shapes will disappear,

absorbed into the organic nature of sky

and all things without borders

that refuse to be contained.

But for a moment, there will be pieces–

acute and obtuse–

and they will strain against their walls.

Bless them,

and bear witness to the sacred transformation

from finite to infinite.