Way up in Langtang Valley
and along a slippery pebbled stream
my youngest son and I were
turning over rocks and waiting for the breakfast call,
marveling about the world
and a God who created all of this.
We wandered towards the otherside
in pursuit of better rocks
and I was aware for one of those briefest of moments of
my son and the mist and the mountain stream and the rocks
and this singular shimmering moment in time.
And as we looked across to the otherside
we saw no dove descending but instead two red pandas at play
in hot pursuit one of another, their wire-brush tails trying
madly to keep up. And then they were gone
and we were there
having received life and to the full.