Red Tulips On the Altar of the Morning

source

The gong sounds.
Monks bow their heads
in meditation.
Burgundy-robed nuns
kneel and flatten
in prostrations,
a thousand repetitions
for the good of all beings.
A sherpa places
one slow foot after another,
circling the sacred mountain.

On the other side of the world,
I walk the beach,
breathing in the constant
prayer of the sea,
the promise of the arching sky.
One breath, another breath,
at one with sand and sea,
inhaling the westerly.

I pat and praise
a white wolf dog
with blue eyes.
It is a prayer of love
for his safe passage.
He leans his head on me
in trust.
A message from my boy.

I choose red potted tulips
at the nursery
and carry them home,
whispering thanks
for their beauty.
I place them in
a sheltered corner of my porch,
a prayer of promise
for spring,
for sunny days,
a prayer of gratitude
for being and for beauty.

I watch small hummers
at the feeder,
my heart expanding
with tenderness
for birds and blossoms.

This whole morning
has felt holy,
each new joy unfolding
its own prayer.


for Susan's prompt at Midweek Motif: Holiness / Holy Day