The world is breathing loudly again this morning
It is speaking between unhurried breaths
What is it saying?
What am I hearing?
The shaking evergreens are whispering
And the cars’ engines are chattering
And the flighty birds are sermonizing
And I am still listening
For the secrets the world is sharing
This April morning,
Which has been brightly frozen in time.
In the living lake
The steely waves are washing
Away the worries of the world in an eternal baptism
And the gulls are commentating.
The wind, the wind
Is winding through the world
Between the emerald blades
And lavender weeds.
They call these little princes, robed in purple and bathed in sun,
Weeds.
Yes, they call them weeds but if they are weeds,
Then let me be a weed too,
A weed to be caressed by the breath
Of this stunning earth.
Let me be a weed that I too might share
In the secrets and sacraments and rituals of a world waiting
To impart it’s grace to those who have ears
To hear
The sounds of all that is alive and breathing.
The Lark Ascends 