Communion

Sometimes, and I don't quite know

Why, the veil lifts and I can see

The world as it is, not as I

Think it to be.

The trees are truer, their form,

Spirit, their sheer aliveness

Reaches down to me in

Wonder, glory at a simplicity

The resists trite characterisation.

Birds look at me, through me,

Speak in their tongue, the

Ground and the leave and the

Shrubs layered upon come alive.

I know, as I write, the

Inadequacy of words, the

Povery of spirit that would

Enclose the world in red

Ink scribbling, however I wish to

Hold forward

This entity that has revealed itself,

Store it recall it honour it.

An act of communion, and

That word has grown in meaning

As I see, in truth, the wonder

Wonder in this world, yes,

And equally the wonder in me.