photo of 1950's Kelowna
by Don Collier
when I stand under your soft-sighing branches,
breathe in the scent of cedar,
walk on pine needles soft,
I am infused with a deep green peacefulness,
feel more blessed than in any cathedral.
I breathe in Spirit,
the breath of the ancient ones.
I breathe out gratitude, beatitude,
send a prayer skyward to the Holy One,
who created forest, shining silver sea,
the earth and sky,
and you and me.
In memory I hear bells ringing
at evening benediction,
in a small white church so many years ago,
the sweet smell of incense,
as the censor clanks to and fro,
the look of light refracted through stained glass,
those long-gone days we thought
would for forever last.
Send gratitude and praise, my friends,
for these soft, sweet-scented
when blessings fall upon our hearts
like gentle rain -
these days that will not,
will not ever
for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: Blessings