The sun now arises victorious over the darkness,
beckoning with promises of fervor and rejuvenation.
I come alive with a desire to revel in this delirious warmth-filled with the promises that only the spring can provide
I burst with words of homage and prayer.
Preparing for sunrise services with my pack and boots,
reaching to the heavens
I seek the divine within the trees
the spring ephemerals
bending my head to the heaven beneath my feet.
Silence is my offering. What more could I bring in my comparative poverty?
My devotions are in the rhythm of my footfalls and the pulse of my exhalations as I seek the promise of truth in the pink buds of the dogwood and azalea.
I must wait-
They are not yet ready to reveal what they know.
They counsel patience-all in due time.
In my eagerness, I kneel to peer into the bluebells.
And feel a kindred yearning and eagerness to grasp the sun,
knowing that time is short
Fading all too soon.
And there is so much truth.