Sometimes I approach them to recall all
that’s vital. Our ancient backyard oak tree
where I bow before its calm stature, tall
as Titan king, hear family of leaves
remind how their fresh flesh, thin veins grant
us air to breathe. How northern forest lake
ripples in soft prayer, wind’s each passing chant
praising water’s gift -- food and life we take
within to nourish and survive. I step
to southern river’s edge, accept offer
of meditation, sacred secrets kept
like golden manna in sunken coffers
open only for spirits willing to go
deep, unite with grasping current’s endless flow.
Roger Armbrust
June 20, 2020
