Listen to the sun and how it sings;
Hear its pulse at the heart of things,
For this is the desert, and in it dwell
The wondrous things that do not fear Hell,
For Heaven’s portals are just as near;
You can almost see the gates from here.
And perhaps the hummingbird flies through
To paint its feathers in glorious hue;
And perhaps the lizard creeps though awhile
To find inside that enormous smile.
And the golden silk on butterfly wings
Are shreds and threads an angel flings
While making the robes the cherubs wear;
And the butterfly went and donned them there.
Listen to the sun and to its song;
For all the desert sings along,
Yes, even crickets carry the tune
When sun is high in the month of June.
For earth herself’s a celestial choir,
The soil is gold as well as fire;
The rocks grow gems beneath our feet,
But the scented blooms are just as sweet;
A whiff of fragrance slipped through the gates
Just as the breeze blew by and waits
To carry its peace on the winds that run;
Listen to the song sung by the sun.
For more poetry from this past week, including a haiku about an adventure with a lizard, read today’s issue of ACM Weekly.