Nature's Revelations: God Speaks Through Beauty
Poetry by Gill Schwartz

SECOND WEEK IN SEPTEMBER

The morning sun, sliding in its arc
towards the South in its journey to the Equinox,
now rises behind Grandmother Maple.
The crisp shadow of her branches, these days,
sweeps across my porch. A few leaves drop,
parched brown from the summer's draught.
Birds are pleased with the seeds on the railing
— flitting chickadees, a proud cardinal,
some sparrows.

Now, through her richly leaved branches
the full moon is rising, roseate.
It soars to shimmer its white trail across the Lake.
In my visioning, I join them;
the birds, each with its own dance, the glorious sun,
the enthralling luminous full moon drawing nearer,
I partake of them all. They reverberate in me.

Each has a secret that it reveals.
Each is a conformation of something that is part of me.
I can not, do not want to name it
more than chickadee or Grandmother Maple.
It is what grows and reaches and brings the All
into this moment, into my breath.

The solitary seagull strokes across the open blue.
His everyday flight is ecstasy, effortless ascension.
My heart's Heart pangs with the longing, Knowing,
but encased in this "me" field that encumbers me so.

 

 

 

Copyright Gill Schwartz 2003   www.WisdomVisions.com