Gild me a day, spun
and spooled with
dappled sunlight.
Bring me a wind that echoes
the morning birds softly sung song.
Spill your honey coated tongue
into the sweetened air
for a leaf will tumble fruitfully
onto the rain soaked dirt
where my lazy lilies sway aimlessly
and reach for your nimble fingers.
Listen to the ancient hum of the river,
tremble in its forgiving wake,
carve your name in the stone
as the mountain rises.
A god gazes north as
morning light breaks,
light spilling like poured milk,
the earth opens its upturned mouth
and drinks first.
Here nature takes you exactly as you are–
raw,
bare,
and alive.
Nothing rushes,
nothing begs or breaks.
I, who look up from the green tree
start to climb,
branches scraping the sky,
riches and gold,
or soil and petals,
one of the vast treasures of the world.