Archive
09/20/11 - (4)
Glorious Spirit
O glorious spirit of the highest skies, brightest waters, purest air, This pristine terraqueous land of stillness — northern Wisconsin — Let me express, in my humblest human dialect, Whatever universal truth my inadequate tongue is capable of saying, That you might know how indefectibly sincere is my gratitude, For your allowing my heart to sojourn with you, my guide, Settle by the sand-washed shores of Lake Nebagamon, Roam its pine-proud woods, probe its moss-and-fungus-rich forests, Smell the lush, thick fragrances of spongy, life-giving decay, Taste the moon's succulent fruit, savor the stars' tart juices . . . For your inviting my breathlessness to breathe your crisp autumnal rush.
O glorious spirit of time and place, of life and death, rebirth and eternity, Hear my words of thanks and, if you deign, acknowledge me, Be it in the whispering of turning ash, maple, poplar, oak, birch leaves Or in the immemorial tremolos of loons, lifting into this sublime afternoon, Or in the grace of a mated pair of bald eagles and its fledgling, Soaring, spiraling, diving, above me, in this sky's wide blue eye, Or in the majesty of the sun, just now setting in the western reaches, As I head back to my cabin, at the beginning of this seven-day pilgrimage To the source of you, O glorious spirit of infinite origins and endings, That I might be reborn — a seed sleeping beneath your vision — Into a thousand falls, winters, springs, summers . . . falls.
09/20/11 - (4)
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