a poem

It's a rainy day in Arizona
with mists draping the mountains
and casting the earth in shadow
relief from the perpetual sunshine

the day rarefied:
peace echoing from the canyons
riding the currents of joy;
the pine and willow trees
cajoled by the wind
filigreed against the sky

On such a day self-reflexion
is elevated to an art form,
an inner skyscape relaxed into
a curve of time and space,
faceted to reflect All That Is;
my heart a hearth lit from within
flamed by each passing thought

Breathing in to the joy in my soul
and singing it out to the wind,
my life is a cornucopia of gifts
and each breath leads back to the Source.



by Elizabeth M. Cheatham