What a clear feeling of beauty I awaken to:
the music
the simple community of the night
the redolent spring air.
The occasional drop of holy water
shook upon our skin
from the clouds above.
The blaze and burn of the fireside-
the way everyone talks
slowly, sparsely,
hushed.
Making sure to dedicate
attention to the fierce
dancing light
captured yet burning free.
Sound by sound the music inside the house blends
singing out the doorway
and into the night.
We belong here, in a rhythm like nature
we are as the sounds of rain and wind
and crickets and coyotes.
And maybe we are felt and heard too,
the way those melodies are heard
on a quiet night
where truth exists uninterrupted.
NorthSouth Press 