Muted reflections staring at the sky
making sounds to draw down angels
that sing in tune with mystery
and ride on the white bird’s call.
Thirsty soil covered by freshly fallen leaves
holding out hope for refreshment
and clinging to a beauty that refuses to fade.
A gray expanse of possibility
whispering into the stillness
which folds everything, living and not,
into a way of being that speaks truth.
