A Psalm to Mother Earth
Bird song on the wind,
Praises from bursting chests.
Mountains clothed in clouds
Both hidden and revealed.
When uncovered they lord over all creatures.
But like Moses’ face, sometimes their glory is too much.
“Hide behind your veil!” we cry.
And the clouds, nature’s veil, descend when beauty threatens to overwhelm us.
Wind, earth’s breath, tickles the leaves of trees.
Speaking, whispering, sometimes shouting.
Earth’s spirit—her creative tongue—gives birth on the wings of wind
Bearing seeds aloft and rain to water them.
God’s breath brooding over the deep.
Flowers—a cacophony of yellow.
They outshine Solomon’s golden throne,
Dancing on the sides of mountain temples, adorning them with living gold.
Birds, the psalmists of nature.
Teaching us how to listen and to sing our own songs.
All nature knew how to praise God before we did.
When we sit silent and let the rocks cry out,
When we refuse to join nature’s choir,
we know so little joy.
The sky dome encloses earth in lapis-lazuli blue,
A glimpse into the heavens where gods dwell.
They, who ride on storm clouds and hurl lightning bolts and hail,
Rain and snow.
The earth receives these gifts, transforming them into teeming life.
Bird song on the wind.
Mountains magnifying earth’s glory.