A snowflake wends its way to earth,
dissolving on your hand.
Two or three and more leave
snow pearls in your hair.
You lift your face to the sky,
receive snow kisses on your skin,
hold your breath
as the magic gathers
and in the drifting white
the world is transfigured.
In an awesome quiet
you listen to the morning,
that echoes deep into your heart.
For Heather Dawn Kemp
Listen with the sea, curling over rocks,
oyster, laid open with razor, and clusters of pink and bone white shells.
Listen with the Gulls, see them swiftly rise and fall, hear their call of freedom over footprints.
Sit upon a warming rock,
listen to the tide, fill your spirit with the lullaby,
the heaving sigh.
Can you imagine a warm, round nest,
the setting sun and warmth of feathered companions.
At first light of day to sing creation’s song
of how the world began.
No wonder you sing.
In this moment.
Everything is the same.
The canvas of our life,
And everything is sacred.
Every flower, every tree,
every rock, every stone,
every you, every me.
My song this day
in every way,
with all that I can be,
is gratitude and love, for life,
perceived in every moment.
With the first hint of light, the chorus begins.
The song breaks the dawn in a symphony of love and praise.
The universe beats in time to the rhythm and hearts large and small,
feathers and all, sing.
Rushing to the shore,
the tide follows our footprints,
tracing the pattern of lives filled with memories of
And I am grateful. Grateful for your life.
Grateful to have shared some of it, but more than this,
grateful that you are more than a memory,
you are the song of the Universe.
The song of
Below the rock, village children play.
The universe sings to the morning,
and listens to the song they make.