Levertov is still blowing my mind daily:
The mountain absent,
a remote folk-memory.
The peninsula
vanished, hill, trees -
gone, shoreline
a rumour.
And we equate
God with these absences -
Deus absconditus.
But God
is imaged
as well or better
in the white stillness
resting everywhere,
giving to all things
an hour of Sabbath,
no leaf stirring,
the hidden places
tranquil in solitude.
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