Connected

The wild birds

Inhabit these hills

And I, a walker,

Glancing down the valley

Dazzled by gleaming lights

Flung across the fields like necklaces

I feel I am connected

With the wind

The grass under my feet

God’s sky above my head.

.

The universe is composed of subjects to be communed with, not objects to be exploited. Everything has its own voice. Thunder and lightning and stars and planets, flowers, birds, animals, trees, – all these have voices, and they constitute a community of existence that is profoundly related.” — Thomas Berry

Firebird

You are my firebird

flame-red, flame-yellow

over the ash-black

of your wings

the white-hot

flickering of your flight.

You are my phoenix

my miracle-worker

unaware of the magic

you make in me

.

your worshipper

as you flit across the field.