Born Again


Yesterday's cleansing rain washed the cobwebs from my mind,
and this morning's birdsongs herald a new beginning, again.
The purple mountain haze lifts to periwinkle sky,
leaves stir in the gentle breeze, a fly buzzes nearby.

Nature's cathedral, a bird-feeder altar in the wooly thicket of rhododendron.
A homily of wind, and the pink and purple petaled flowers respond,
"Amen!" The bee alights on the leaf and rides the wind-swept
waves. I am bathed and reborn in the healing power of holy breath.

© Christine Salkin Davis

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