“When the sun rises each one of us is summoned
by the living and the dead to praise God.”
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.
In the morning you sentclouds towering and drove fine ice into the tender rose, (its red petals scattered, a holocaust on pure white ground) and took my breath away! Father, I seek you like death, clean and clear in the ringing air.
Green and golden, long shadows flow east and birdsong fills your nodding trees.
In the gentle rhythm of the swaying wind there I hear yoursong again.