
Altar of the Heart
The moon in pale brilliance tempers the summer sea, the blessed land in silent prayer, the lilting breath of all that lives. Upon the altar

The moon in pale brilliance tempers the summer sea, the blessed land in silent prayer, the lilting breath of all that lives. Upon the altar

Holy night quiet darkness half-moon glimmers lapping tide Wind-drift wave tossed fear dissolved water guides spirit rises open hearted weightless freedom soul unbound sunlit morning

The day arrives in sunlit glory: snow-capped mountains, landscapes rich with color, tidal seas chasing the moon. After years of toil and grief I turn

On wonder’s threshold with depths uncharted and horizons vast, forgotten to many the hymns of praise and whispers of worship that stir in me these

Winds pick up, trouble the sea, clouds lower the sky. Where tide meets wind the sea rolls in waves as thought follows feeling. Silence sharpens

I train my eyes upon the living sea, rise and fall and waves of wind, then look upon swaying grass, gone to seed and summer

(for Ann) Silent and beautiful, the artful earth in rising green and silver sea. I drink the free air and let her beauty soak my

Slack tide seas mope about, then silence falls, a welcome blanket. The lure of deep water and gathering night held to the mystery I kneel

Silent as the earth I match her pace, steady and serene in evening quiet. Why conjure problems while swallows perform, the world bathed in light?

Dark night beauty, densely clouded skies, rain showering the metal roof. I rest in this comfort, alien to bright lights, discordant sound, retreat to where

Hidden by the noise the druids signal, messages of rebirth within chaos. From the dark night forest and fortresses of grace, on hummingbird wings and

Tracking my years like water on stone, drip.. drip.. drip.. the hardest places dissolve to sand as stone opens to the light beyond.

Bring me day in sunlit glory, vital earth and flowing tide. Bring me night, moonlit haunting, cry of owls and stars in flight. Bring me

Warm before the fire I watch trees flower and gray valley skies soften in growing light. Neither cold nor hot in the changing time, winter

Pulled from the morass, I see evergreens in the distance and messages of earth alive in fading blooms of the plum. Quiet before the mystery,