Have you ever heard the wind,
Spinning and flailing among the low branches,
Knuckling up a trunk and
Exploding through the canopy?
Have you ever felt the cold
Chill from a thousand plodding glaciers,
Creeping along the earth to
Rough your bones in early morning darkness?
Have you seen the face of God
Who never smiles except at dawn
When the sun is low and the kestrel rises
On the western currents toward the sea?
Have you found your place above the trees,
Raised your voice and arched your wings,
Gusted against the canyon walls and
Soared along the oceanís rim?
I know you have, I know you have,
For you are gale and gull and
Child of God and, in this time,
Forever golden, perhaps sublime.