"Banana Moon"

Banana Moon
Banana moon slicing through bare branches
Peeking around winter-brittle twigs,
One dead dangling leaf.

I want…
To paint a face on you, Laury-style,
Sliver of gleaming silver
Giant comma punctuating the pre-dawn sky,

I see…

You diminishing, shrinking,

Weary of lighting the

Way for the dark-travelers.

I wonder…

Where do you go to sleep?

Are there jumping cows and fiddling cats there?

Why does no one ever fall in love

By the light of the waning moon?

St. Timothy's has a rector, Mary, and an assistant rector, Elizabeth. They share duties and alternate presiding over our weekly services. Depending on which one is preaching the homily, I listen with a different side of my brain. Mary begins with one of the Scripture readings and then begins to build. She adds layer after layer of thoughts, insights. She carefully crafts each layer to build upon the previous one until by the end of her sermon, she has constructed a strong wall of ideas based on her original foundation, but ending up at a much different place. Her homilies remind me of the wonderful stacked stone walls I saw all throughout southwest France, each stone selected to fit perfectly with its neighbors, each important to the strength of the whole wall. I listen to Mary with the logical, data-absorbing, left side of my brain.


Elizabeth, the storyteller, begins with Scripture as well. Then she tells the stories that reveal its meaning. She circles and twirls around the word, looking at it from different angles, embellishing and enlivening it. Her homilies are full of movement and color. They remind me of this unfolding bud or the spirals of a shell. I listen to Elizabeth with the creative right side of my brain.

Which side of your brain to you listen with in church?