Sunday, August 08, 2010
A little poetry inspired by my morning hikes to meet the sun at the top of the Butte.
Once hidden, drowning in an ocean of cold mist. Furiously churning to break free from its prison and into the waiting sky.
Once slowly, effortlessly ascending the crest of distant hilltops. Its soft light illuminating the earth from which the deer graze.
Once late, and red, rising as the very heart of the earth and sky, pumping its copper light in nourishment, power, divine beauty.
Like wolves to moon, are birds to sun. A morning chorus salutes its arrival. A king into his golden court bids farewell to the silver queen.
All life wakes and blooms in the golden mist.