The beautiful clarity of the early morning
like a clear brook in ancient times.
There is a quiet insistence in this
that ties holiness with beauty.
Then the yellow light silently and slowly spreads,
glittering the leaves that help unfold
the geniality of my spirit.
How can I not succumbed to this beauty
It connects me to the ephemerality of the morning dew
and to the decent soft blowing of the wind
and to the first bird I have just seen.
It is actually spiritual.
And It all speaks of graciousness and mercy
and truth and justice. And wisdom.
And in my sweet aloneness, I listen and
it inhabits and grows in me.
There lies a deeper connection.
And I just keep quiet.