Looking at the sky, we long to learn
the language of clouds, of mountaintops.
Mother Sky, teach me
how to sing like small bird, like raven,
Quiet my heart, so I may listen
to the breath of Grandfather Cedar,
and learn to speak tree,
to speak river,
to speak wind.
Transform my soul
to make me worthy of
learning to sing
Lead me along the shore,
to count the waves,
my heart singing
joyously and forever
the song of Ocean.
One from 2015, which I will share with the Poetry Pantry, where you will find fine reading of a Sunday morning.