Beauty falls like rain, 
we can't catch every drop,
but we stand still with mouths open
to slack our aching thirst.

Beauty grows like leaves
on the greening tree,
we try to grasp the outline 
of each stunning leaf but can't.

Our eyes can only take in so much.

Beauty rolls in like waves
on a beach awash with driftwood, 
we can't contain the blue sky that frames our sight,
we can't trace each shape of silver wood.

But the rain falls,
and the leaves keep turning on the trees,
and one wave follows the next,
even when we're not present to witness.

The mountains still stand 
and the kereru sing in the bush
though there are no ears to listen.
Beauty is for beauty's sake alone.

And if we happen to capture it,
we can consider ourselves thrice blessed. 
By beauty, the God who gifted it,
and not least for being given the eyes to see.

We can take a breath of gratitude and relief. 
It will be here,
when we are once again in sight of it.
It will not have left.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
October 2017